


The War of the Summer King

by AmeliaIsmills



Series: A King for all Seasons [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Fix-It, House Stark, House Targaryen, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-01-03 09:23:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21177119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmeliaIsmills/pseuds/AmeliaIsmills
Summary: The Stark's and Targaryen's are spread across Westeros as the world starts to turn towards the War. Instead of Five Kings this time, there will be only two. A false lion in King's Landing and a true dragon in the North.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of A King for All Season's. We are now gearing full swing into many more characters, locations, and a few more time travelers.

* * *

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/183137222@N05/48960373872/in/dateposted-public/)

**WINTERFELL**

Margaery hummed to herself as she ran the coal over the parchment her husband had gifted her with before he left. 

_ “For your sketching. I would love to see the world through your eyes when I return,” Jon said tenderly as Margaery ran her hand over the collections of paints and charcoals. _

_ “I will draw every rock to every tree while you are gone, husband,” she answered and bit down on her lip when her voice was wobbly. She did not understand this weeping she had been doing lately. _

_ Jon smiled at her and drew her into his arms, “I will look forward to seeing them all, my wife,” he huskily answered and took her lips onto his own. Margaery could never quite figure if it was her husband’s dragon blood or wolf blood that stirred him so. _

Margaery snapped out of her memory and smiled as she went to stand. A pain went through her back and she reached back to rub at the spot. 

“It will help if you go every morning to the hot springs, Your Grace,” Lady Stark said from the doorway. Margaery turned and smiled at her husband’s aunt. 

“I try, but I feel so tired all the time,” she admitted. 

Lady Catelyn smiled in understanding, “I was the same with Robb, Bran, and Rickon. The girls were easy compared.” 

“I heard Maester Luwin tell Lord Stark that word has come from the Princess Sansa?” Margaery asked as she made herself move to walk the room as her Good-Aunt came in and took a seat. 

Lady Catelyn smiled, “Yes. Just this morning. They have landed in White Harbor and Daenerys is sending ships and troops on to take Dragonstone, but they are coming directly here.” 

“I wish Jon were here,” Margaery said quietly, “He misses them so.”

Lady Catelyn reached out and took her hand, “I know he wishes he was here as well, for his aunt and sister, but mostly for his wife and child.” 

Margaery smiled softly and looked down to her stomach that was swollen as large as a pumpkin.

“Did the Princess give any indication to her circumstances?” Margaery finally asked as delicately as she could. Lady Catelyn smiled wryly at her in response. 

“She signed the letter as the Lady Sansa of House Greyjoy, Princess from the North, and First Advisor of her Imperial Majesty, Daenerys of House Targaryen, Empress of Eastern Essos,” Lady Catelyn answered.

“First advisor?” Margaery mused. 

Lady Catelyn just raised a shoulder in ignorance, “I have no idea of the meaning or what it entails.” 

“I suppose we will know in a little over two weeks?” Margaery calculated quickly.

Lady Catelyn tilted her head, “Sansa indicated that the Empress, Theon, herself, and one other would be here in less time and to please arrange for a handmaid and guard for the Empress until the rest of the army began to arrive. Lord Arryn and your Grandmother are going out of their mind trying to figure out who would be an appropriate guard for an Empress.”

“How long do we have?” Margaery questioned and Lady Stark gave her another look. 

“Two days,” the woman answered flatly and Margaery began to understand the worry. 

**THE SKY TO WINTERFELL**

Sansa adored her best friend and Empress, but she would never agree to this again. Alannys was tucked against her chest, wrapped heavily in swaddling around her body. Theon was behind her with his legs wrapped up against her body and holding her and Alannys steady against Daenerys. 

She was a wolf, however, and not meant for the skies. 

For that matter, neither was her husband or daughter. The forest and the sea were the domains they could claim. 

She cursed the fact that she had wanted to be in Winterfell quickly. Word had reached them in Essos that Jon had married Margaery and that the new Queen was rumored to be with child. 

Daenerys and Sansa both desperately wanted to be there for the birth, especially given that Jon, her father, and Loras Tyrell were somewhere in the Westerlands. 

Sansa could curse her cousin and father for their ridiculousness. This was why she had heavily suggested Olenna Tyrell as Hand to begin with. The Queen of Thorns was supposed to talk them out of stupid things like this. 

Daenerys had not helped. 

_ “I would have taken Drogon and burned down the Westerlands until they gave me the men that murdered my good sister, niece, and nephew.” _

_ “Dragons!” was all Sansa could manage in exasperation before giving a curt curtsy and excusing herself. _

“Winterfell!” Theon yelled behind her and Sansa could not help the warm feeling that immediately seized her in its grasp as she saw her childhood home come into view. 

Then they were descending swiftly. 

She could see people rushing to exit through the hunter’s gate where they were going to land. 

Drogon came down easily, his wings flapping to smooth the descent, and Sansa looked down to see Alannys wide awake and giggling happy as Theon reached up and easily guided them both down from dragon back. 

Daenerys came down last after Sansa was settled. Theon holding a hand out to guide her off and making Daenerys chuckle at the chivalry.

“I’ve been climbing off dragon back by myself for years, Theon,” the Queen chided. 

“It does not mean it would not be bad manners for me not to assist, My Queen,” Theon responded flatly before turning to his wife. 

Sansa breathed deeply and smiled at Theon who smiled back dopily. His wife would never cease to make his entire body relax whenever she smiled at him. He just wished the effect of Sansa’s smile did not seem to affect every other man not related to her as well. 

She looked up to see her mother, Robb, and Arya rushing towards them, the Hand of the King and the Queen of Westeros standing back to give a moments privacy. 

“Mother,” Sansa said as her mother reached them and stopped as she realized what was tucked against her eldest daughter’s chest. 

“May I present Her Imperial Highness, the Empress Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen,” Sansa managed to hurry out the courtesy before her mother could embrace her. 

Lady Catelyn looked to Daenerys and gave a slight curtsy, a worthy show of respect to a foreign Queen without disrespecting her own sovereign.

“Be welcome to Winterfell, Your Majesty,” Sansa’s mother said cordially, but with an underlying layer of warmth. 

“I am grateful to be welcomed to the home that sheltered my nephew, Lady Stark,” Daenerys said, voice only slightly cool towards the woman that had struggled to love Jon before the truth came out. 

Sansa tilted her head as she watched her mother process the mood, but Daenerys broke the uncomfortable feelings that could occur by continuing. 

“But let us drop the courtesies for a moment. You must want to hold your daughter and meet your grandchild.”

Lady Stark did not bother waiting and rushed Sansa. 

“Sweetling, oh, let me see her,” Catelyn crooned. 

“Her name is Alannys, Mother. Alannys of House Greyjoy,” Sansa smiled in pride as her daughter giggled and reached chubby fingers to tangle her Grandmother’s hair. 

“After your mother?” Lady Stark said looking at Theon, who was making a considerable effort to be both proud and hide somewhat behind Sansa and Daenerys from the glare Robb was giving him. 

“Aye,” Theon finally said as Lady Catelyn looked up directly at him. 

“Theon,” Robb finally said and Theon grimaced as Sansa geared up to insult her brother. 

“Welcome home,” Robb finally said with a nod. Theon let out a sigh of relief and Arya chortled at his discomfort. 

“Welcome home, sister,” Arya said as she came up to look at Alannys. The baby reached up and pinched her Aunt’s nose. 

Arya burst out laughing at the tight grip, “You will be a fighter, won’t you? A warrior princess?”

“She’ll have the finest teachers in all of Essos,” Daenerys said from behind everyone. 

“Aye, that she will and she’ll cut any man down who dares to offer insult,” Theon agreed. 

“So, any man who reminds her of her father?” Robb chuckled as he came to lean over and look at the babe. 

“I’m not that man anymore,” Theon said quietly as he finally moved beside Sansa. 

Robb looked over, a slightly ashamed look on his face, “Aye, I know you are not.”

Theon smiled tightly as Robb put his arm out and reached out to clasp it. 

“Welcome home, brother,” Robb said again and Theon’s smile relaxed into a grin. 

“Perhaps, an introduction of your Queen?” Daenerys finally broke in and the Starks turned to look back at the Empress. 

“Of course,” Lady Catelyn said as they made way to the gate. 

“I present to you Queen Margaery of House Targaryen, Queen of Westeros and the Lady Olenna of House Tyrell, Hand of the King,” Lady Catelyn introduced her sovereign and the Hand. 

Daenerys smiled congenitally as Sansa took to introducing her. 

“Thank you, Your Grace, for welcoming us back to Westeros in peace. May I present to you, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons, Keeper of the Peace, and Empress of Eastern Essos.”

Sansa ignored the dry look Dany gave her, but when her Queen spoke, she could not help but shoot her a dirty look. 

“You are even worse than Missandei.”

“That is an awful lot of titles for a conquering ruler,” the dry voice of the Queen of Thorns came from the side. 

Sansa held back her snort and made herself remain placid instead of leaning back on her heels to watch the fireworks in interest. 

“My heralds tend to add to them at their leisure. It seems to make them happy,” Daenerys responded without inflection. 

Sansa bit her lip in indignation. 

“Hmph, well, perhaps we could continue the conversation over tea,” Lady Olenna responded. 

“As my Grandmother has said, mayhaps a little less delicate than decorum would require, please join us for tea where we can speak freely,” Margaery finally broke in after watching the dynamic women battle tongues with intrigue. 

Sansa smiled at Margaery and was pleased when the westerosi Queen returned it. 

“How much longer?” she could not help but ask as she came to walk along her good-cousin. 

Margaery sighed a bit sadly, “Maester Luwin says it will be unlikely for me to hold another moon’s turn.” 

“You wish Jon was home?” Sansa asked gently as they walked towards the great keep. 

Margaery nodded, “But we must carry on. My husband is doing the right thing and while I would wish him home for the birth of his child, I would not ever wish him to put aside the moral compass that guides his actions.” 

Sansa nodded wryly. It seemed it really didn’t matter what life she lived. A Stark man was a Stark through and through, regardless of sharing blood with a dragon. 

**The Westerlands**

Jon stretched as he woke and quickly grabbed his sword as he saw his father and Loras both armed and looking around. 

“What is it?” he asked quietly as Ghost butted up against the back of his leg, a slight rumble already occurring beneath the heavy fur. 

Jon reached for Vargas and exhaled slowly as his awareness of his dragon grew in his mind. 

“Who goes?” Loras called out, positioning directly in front of Jon, to the King’s chagrinment. It seemed not to matter what he wished, Loras Tyrell had declared himself Kingsguard and would not have it any other way. 

When Jon brought up who would inherit Highgarden and be the Lord of the Reach, Loras had simply given Jon a nonplussed look. Then he had stated he would not have been Lord, regardless, because he was not going to be able to produce an heir. 

_ “So, I suggest, King Good-Brother, that you and Marge work really hard to produce a multitude of bouncing babies for all the lands they will be set to inherit.” _

Jon still could not stop blushing. 

“Peace! We mean no harm!” the voice called from the shadows. Jon startled as he recognized the voice. 

“Ser Selmy?” he called out and ignored the aggravated look from his Uncle. 

“Aye, and who would you...Lord Stark?” Ser Barristan Selmy said astonished as he came out from the cover of the trees into the clearing they had made camp. 

“Ser Barristan Selmy,” Ned said cautiously, “You are a far way off from the Lannister court.” 

Ser Barristan gave a strange look to Ned at the phrase before snarling out, “I was relieved of my post...that ponce Trant put in my place.”

“Not Jaime Lannister?” Jon found himself asking and pushing aside Loras. 

“My King,” Loras hissed quietly, but not quiet enough. 

“King…” Ser Selmy started, “So it is true...you are the son of Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Jon looked back to his uncle in shock, “I am, but how…”

“Well, see, it’s funny you mention Jaime Lannister…” Ser Selmy began before the man seemed to appear as if by magic. 

Loras and Ned both pulled Jon back at this point and placed themselves bodily in front of their King.

“For fuck’s sake,” Jon bit out in frustration. 

Jaime laughed before managing to shock them all, “Your Grace, I sure hope you know what is going on, because I assure you I am still confused at how I went to bed with my wife and awoke with Cersei.” 

“Your wife?” Ned asked confused and looked to Ser Selmy who shrugged. 

“I have no idea. Robert Baratheon was in the ground no more than a moon’s turn when Jaime came to me with Myrcella and Tommen. Told me we were riding out for the North, then halfway across the crownlands he shifts gears and we head to the Westerlands. We meet a woman who says she is the Lady Lannister and Jaime gives Myrcella and Tommen to her and tells her to travel to Winterfell for shelter,” Ser Selmy says instead of explaining anything more. 

“Your wife’s name, Ser Jaime?” Jon asks quietly, barely beyond hope. 

Jaime meets his eyes and responds easily without hesitation, “Brienne of Tarth.”

Jon inhaled sharply, “Loras…Father ...move,” he ordered as he began to push past them. 

They reluctantly separated. 

“Jaime,” Jon said as the man clasped his arm. 

“My King,” Jaime responded as they released and went down on one knee. Ser Barristan quickly followed suit. 

“How?” he began, but Jaime cut him off. 

“That would be a long story, which involves a faceless man, and a raven-haired pen friend whom you call sister.”

“Arya…” Jon murmured and Ned looked over in shock. 

“You have been writing my daughter?” he said in fury, but Jon quickly put a hand on Ned’s arm. 

“Peace, father, Jaime Lannister saved all of our lives and future when he bravely broke his vow to slay my Grandfather and he has been scorned for it ever since. He turned his back on his sister to fight the dead and when my heritage was discovered, he swore himself to me,” Jon quietly stated. 

“I would bring no harm to your children and would wish for nothing for myself, but protection of two of the children I sired to the harpy that lives in the red keep,” Jaime said in defense to himself. 

“They have it, always and forever, Jaime,” Jon swore before his Uncle could respond. 

“They are on the way to Winterfell?” Ned finally stated and at the nod in affirmation, he sighed. 

“We will need to find a rookery to send a raven home,” Ned grumbled as he finally put his sword away. 

“That would be most appreciated,” Jaime responded, “Now, what exactly are we in the Westerlands for?” 

“We’re hunting a mountain,” Jon said savagely, “Don’t suppose you know what rock Clegane has crawled under? It was quite a boon to learn he had left the Red Keep.” 

Jaime met his King’s eyes and grinned back wildly. 

“As a matter of fact, Your Grace, I do.” 

**Dragonstone**

Shireen Baratheon knew without a shadow of doubt that she had lived this life before, but it was also different than the life she lived. She watched as her mother wrung her hands together and paced the length of the Dragonstone throne room. 

“I should...we should…,” her mother began, but stopped every few moments before beginning her nervous pacing again. 

“We have already set our plan, Mother, there is nothing left for us to do,” Shireen soothed as her mother became more and more manic. She would have to send for the Maester soon. 

Shireen was standing by the black throne her father had rarely used. She knew that technically it was her seat by her Uncle’s placement of her father as the Lord of Dragonstone, but it had never felt right. Shireen felt she now understood why it did not feel right. 

She pursed her lips and found herself perplexed. She knew that in her first life she had been only eleven when her father declared himself King after her Uncle’s death. They had been well away from Dragonstone and in the North by the time she had been slain by her own kin. 

She was not particular displeased her father was dead this time around, although the circumstances were still beyond strange. Her Uncle dead in the Red Keep, her father killed in an apparent ambush by raiders on the King’s Road, and her Uncle Renly dead by the hand of the Mountain. 

That in itself was strange, because she could have sworn her father and the witch Melisandre were responsible for her Uncle Renly’s death the first time. 

Now, they were at a loss as to what to do. Her mother was a wreck who was taking more and more milk of the poppy from the Maester and there appeared to be no sign of the red witch. 

“Shireen, what are we to do?” Selyse stated in a wild like tone as if Shireen had not already spoke. 

Shireen raised her eyes in exasperation. Here was yet another change she could not fathom or understand. Her mother did not know anything of their past lives, but she had begun to lean on Shireen the moment that her husband had died. 

Perhaps it was because her mother had never known anything but a sheltered life in this world. Shireen did not know, but she had taken measures to at least attempt to see to their people and vassals while her mother fell to pieces. 

This would be the reason her mother was now seeming to lose her mind. 

With Joffrey on the Iron Throne, Shireen had felt the need to make sure they were as prepared as ever should that cruel boy attempt to destroy the last of the trueborn Baratheon line. She had done the only thing she knew to do at the age of three and ten when her father had passed. 

She called the banners to Dragonstone. She had not known what to expect, but what had happened was even more surprising. The bannermen of the ruling house of Dragonstone had come in force. 

All of them, without a moment’s hesitation.

Houses Sunglass, Bar Emmon, Velaryon, and Celtigar all currently resided in Dragonstone. 

Then House Seaworth had arrived in ships that were more numbered than she remembered and Ser Davos was there with a knowing gaze. 

Shireen was not ashamed to admit she had waited the appropriate amount of time to when she could find the onion knight alone and had promptly thrown herself into his arms and wept. 

_ “Princess,” the man had soothed, but she shook her head violently. _

_ “I will have none of it! I do not want to be Queen!” she angrily stated. _

_ Ser Davos tried again, “Lady Shireen, perhaps there is a solution we have not thought of.” _

_ Shireen looked over, her anger fading as he corrected his address. _

_ Then he began to talk of the rising of the dead and the return of the dragons and finally, the story of a hidden prince in the North. She listened enraptured as he spoke of Jon Snow...the man she had briefly known as the Lord Commander. _

_ She cried as he talked of his own death and how he had awoken on his ship with his son’s alive and well. He spoke of receiving news of her father’s death and not feeling remorse, but elation when she sent her summons for all loyal men to Dragonstone to come forth. _

_ Then when they finished, Lady Shireen Baratheon had leaned back and nodded soundly. _

_ The future already shaping itself in front of her. _

_ “My Uncle is dead and he claimed right to the throne by our shared Targaryen blood. As there is a true Targaryen claimant, all other rights to the throne are null and void. I am the last trueborn Baratheon and therefore, I am Lady Baratheon of the Stormlands,” she had stated to the Lord’s when they gathered in the map room next morning. _

_ “News has come that ships have been sighted coming towards us with Targaryen sails. I hereby order, as the only blood relative in residence to House Targaryen, that all the flags and sigil of House Baratheon be removed and the banner of House Targaryen flown. We will not fight whoever it is that has come to claim the King’s home, but will gladly turn over the stewardship to whomever he has declared fit. House Baratheon will once again renew their vows to House Targaryen,” Shireen finished and said a prayer to whomever might be listening that the Houses sworn to Dragonstone would understand that this was the only way. _

_ “Aye, I will swear,” Lord Monford was first, but before long every house had stated their agreement and plans began to be made. _

Now, the ships were only a night away and Shireen had done everything she knew to welcome a dragon home. 

**King’s Landing**

Varys tilted his head as he watched Cersei Lannister shuffle about the throne room, moving through this lord and that lord. She was angry and it was no surprise. 

He did not think she had arranged Robert’s death, but he knew she was behind the death of Renly Baratheon. Sending Clegane after the last stag like a fool. If there was any doubt about the rumors of her children not being stags, then that had solidified the gossip. 

The sweeping away and death of the King’s bastard children just went ahead and nailed that coffin shut. 

The lion’s would have to be removed. 

“Milord,” a voice said from his left. He turned and smiled at the maiden beside him. 

“There are messages come for you from Essos,” the messenger said and gave a quick curtsy before disappearing again. He smiled and nodded to himself as he removed himself from the mockery the false boyking had made of the iron throne room. 

He made his way to his office where a rough young ruffian was waiting. 

“You have a message for me?” he asked soothingly, going ahead and opening his drawer for coin. 

“Aye, Milord. The silver queen has left Essos and sailed North like you thought she might. There is more noise from Dragonstone though. The three headed dragon is flying high above the keep and the banners have been called. The rumor is the Lady Shireen declared herself the Lady Baratheon of Storm’s End and has declared her allegiance to the King hiding in the North,” the boy babbled excitedly. 

Varys leaned back and nodded somberly. It seemed that the time was soon to act and he should probably see himself away from the Red Keep. It would not be long before this knews of Aegon Targaryen, child of Rhaegar and Lyanna, reached King’s Landing. He would prefer to be away before the lion’s came asking why he had not shared. 

“Thank you, boy. For your trouble, take this, and if you would be so inclined...please carry a message to the dockmaster for me,” Varys began and quickly began to plot his way North. 

**Winterfell - The Solar of the Hand of the King **

“You’ve been staring at that spot on the wall for the last twenty minutes, Lord Arryn,” Olenna Tyrell snapped, “Surely you have something better to do than sit in my solar being dour.” 

Jon Arryn glared at the Queen of Thorns.

“When the King returns and before the war with Cersei and her spawn begins in earnest, I think we should move the Queen and the heir to the Eerie,” Jon Arryn finally stated and held himself still for what was surely about to be a tirade. 

However, silence met him and he looked up to find the Queen of Thorns staring at him with a pleased tilt to her lips. 

“I think that would be a prudent idea. The only way to breach the defenses is betrayal or a dragon. Luckily, I think your people are loyal and we are the people of the Dragon. I think it is a solid idea and I will be suggesting to the King as soon as he is done frolicking about the Westerland’s like a bounty hunter,” Olenna finally grumbled, “I’m not a hundred percent sure Dorne is worth it.”

The unladylike snort from the third member in the room caused them both to look at the strange young girl who was essentially the Hand of the Essos Empress. 

Sansa Greyjoy was unlike anything Jon Arryn had come across before in a lady from one of the great houses. She was all grace and niceties like a southron lady, but she was hard as tempered valyrian steel and at times seemed to be made of ice. 

“Jon is not traipsing around the Westerlands because Dorne is worth it. He is traipsing around them because he believes it is the right thing to do,” Lady Greyjoy said as she seemed to spin another thread into the cloth she was weaving into. 

“Hmph, where will we be if that righteousness gets him killed,” Olenna muttered and Sansa shot her a look with a raised eyebrow. 

“You’ll be the family that holds the regency of the true king while he grows from infancy,” the girl answered dryly to Olenna’s shock. 

She did not stop, though, simply set her sewing to the side and Olenna could now see it was a winter rose in the almost translucent fabric. Sansa looked up and stared at them both as if measuring whether she should share her thoughts.

She seemed to have decided it was a good idea and spoke again. 

“Jon will exasperate you and at times you will wish you could strangle your king,” she began slowly, “But if you truly protect him and guide him where he struggles, you will end up with something that has not happened in a long time.”

“And what is that Lady Greyjoy,” Lord Arryn asked. 

Sansa smiled, looked back down, and picked back up her sewing, “A king of the people and one who will be remembered for all time.”

**Dragonstone **

Ser Jorah Mormont watched as Dragonstone came into sight and inhaled deeply as he saw his Empress’s sigil already flying high above the castle. 

“Ser Jorah?” Asha Greyjoy asked from behind him, “Are we going ashore?” 

Ser Jorah turned and met the eyes of the Lady of the Iron Isles and smiled. 

“Aye, and it appears we might not have a battle before us,” he said amiably and tried not to laugh when Lady Asha seemed irritated. 

“Pity, that,” was all she said before turning and yelling orders to begin to prepare to go ashore. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of our arc two time traveler's are revealed and a reunion is planned and one occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW. Two chapters in three days. This is absolutely not going to be the norm, but I just could not stop once I started. One slight change to my outline. At the end of OUaWT I stated we'd be going beyond the wall in the second arc, but it looks like the first time beyond the wall will occur in arc three. 
> 
> There is a fairly large time skip within this chapter, skipping the portion of going to Dragonstone, stopping, then continuing North. This is mainly because anything written in between would have been filler and everything I tried fell flat.

* * *

**King’s Landing - Gendry **

* * *

Gendry Baratheon stood outside the great gates that led to the Red Keep and snorted as he watched the Stag flags of the former Baratheon king be brought down. It had been happening all morning and he could at least admit to the fact that Cersei Lannister had waited a respectful few months before raising her standard. 

He had no doubt that she was the mastermind behind the changes occuring and not the little bastard lion on the throne. 

Hiking his bag up over his shoulder, he turned and started to whistle as he made his way down to the docks. He had removed himself from the forge as soon as word had come of Robert Baratheon’s death. He’d started to look for a merchant caravan to see about guarding work when he heard of Renly Baratheon being cut down by the Mountain then fleeing the city. 

That made him the last living male Baratheon and he’d be damned if he gave over his rightful name as given by the true king. He’d earned the Baratheon name through swinging his war hammer for the living and when he had hacked the head off a wight about to kill the fallen Daenerys Stormborn, Aegon Targaryen had knighted him and named him Lord before council. It was his and he was keeping it. 

Using every bit of flea bottom knowledge he had to hide while the Lannister soldiers, with white cloaks, flooding the city and began hacking down the royal bastards. He felt remorse for being unlikely and unable to save them, but knew that something new was occurring this time that had not occurred the first time around. 

He had to get North...he had to get to Arya. 

He had been flabbergasted when rumor of Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan vanishing in the night with Myrcella and Tommen reached the Flea Bottom streets. By the time the docks had reopened, Gendry had secured passage from an unexpected source on a ship headed North.

And she would be his bride. Arya had promised as soon as the war was over they would wed, but Gendry would be damned if he waited again. They were both soon to be of a marriable age and Gendry had waited long enough. Climbing aboard the ship he tossed one more look over to the red keep and grinned wryly. 

He never knew his father, honestly did not want to, but he wondered if the man would be proud to know that a stag would finally marry a wolf. He didn’t even need to start a war over it. 

  
  


**King’s Landing - Varys **

* * *

Varys was quite comfortable standing aboard  _ The Fury  _ as she pulled from the bay and into the open water. The North is where they would be going, but there was something else occuring that he did not completely understand. It began with the young hooded man that had come aboard before him and then rushed into the cabins. 

He turned as he heard a noise behind him and gave a nod as the captain came beside him. 

“Lord Varys, I wanted to speak to you directly of a slight change to our plans,” the man said bluntly and Varys raised an eyebrow. 

“Change?” he asked pleasantly. 

“Yes, I have been instructed to bring you to Dragonstone instead of the North. There we will gather the Lady Baratheon and make haste to White Harbor. The King has sent word that he is anxious to have his cousin in the safety of his mother’s family home,” Dale Seaworth, Captain of  _ The Fury,  _ stated without missing a beat. 

“And may I ask who the young man hidden below is?” Varys continued on, not particularly feeling threatened by these changes. He had after all been marching to another’s larger plan ever since Daenerys Targaryen had announced in a desert that she had a nephew alive. Other plans occuring since then made him think that the young Stormborn princess knew exactly where her news would reach. 

The unknown was a new circumstance for him, but he had found there was enough clear paths of information to avoid any powerless sort of notion. 

“Ahh, that is a favor for the King as well...and I suppose for my father, but the King is the one who legitimized him and all,” Captain Seaworth said. 

“Legitimized? How interesting,” Varys murmured, but a voice from behind broke through his thinking. 

“Aye, legitimized. The King wouldn’t be wanting his sister...cousin... marrying a bastard...royal one or not,” Gendry stated with a grin and Varys had to nod along at the reasoning as he took in the male who looked to be a young Renly Baratheon come again. 

“And the self-proclaimed Lady Shireen Baratheon of Storm’s End, Lady Paramount of the Storm Land’s?” Varys asked, tilting his head to the side. 

Gendry chuckled dryly, “My lady wife to be, the Princess Arya, would have my head if I tried to tie her down to a keep with vassals and small folk and the like. The Lady Shireen Baratheon is my cousin and she is the Lady of the Storm Lands by succession, proclamation not necessary. It is her birthright.” 

Varys nodded and turned his head back to the sea. It seemed it would be an interesting voyage, indeed. 

**Winterfell - Arya **

* * *

Arya smiled as she pulled the last of her leathers on. She’d spent nearly the last fortnight gathering her supplies and preparing to leave home. She reached down and secured her sword to her side, fingers carressing the worn leather wrapped perfectly around her hilt. 

Glancing about the room, she could not help the ache that settled in her heart. For the last few years, her place had been here in Winterfell. Oh, she’d pulled the strings in the South to make sure that thing’s happened, but she had happily remained in her childhood home. 

There was a settling that occured deep in her bones with every day she was here that she had lost in the previous timeline. It was an acceptance of who she was as Arya Stark, the Hand of Death, although she would never announce herself as such.

It was a permanence that settled something in her soul and reassured her mind that she would always have her home in this life. Winterfell and the Starks were not going anywhere. 

It was time, however, for Arya Stark, to go beyond these walls. 

“So, it is time?” the voice of her sister called from the door and Arya swallowed back the retort she had prepared. There was pain in Sansa’s voice. 

“Not all of us returned to a husband in the household, Sansa. I’ve waited long enough. He is en route home and I will meet him in White Harbor,” Arya said without apology, but she did give her sister a sad smile in acknowledgment of her feelings. 

Sansa huffed and sat on the bed and kicked off her shoes. She began to run Nymeria with her toes and the direwolf looked up blearily before laying her head back down. 

“I am just being ridiculous. Father, Bran, and Jon are all gone and I just came home. I know how much of a comfort you have become for mother in my absense,” Sansa hummed as she picked at the threading on Arya’s bed furs. 

Arya laughed dryly, “You mean I have been a great distraction to Mother from all of her actual worries.”

Sansa laughed as well, but looked at Arya with serious eyes. 

“Be safe, sister. I would ask you to take Meera with you. She is ready to go and will be able to keep up. She needs the distraction to keep from chasing after Uncle, Jojen, and Brandon to the wall and beyond,” Sansa asked the favor and Arya nodded without thinking about it. 

“Aye, I can do that. Where is Lord Reed currently?” she asked. 

Sansa stood and walked to the window. 

“Lady Olenna says he is currently traveling amidst the Houses of the North and personally summoning them to Winterfell. We received word yesterday that Jon, Father, and Loras met with friendly faces who remembered Jon from long ago. Apparently these friendly faces let them know that we would be receiving a precious gift to keep safe,” Sansa sighed and watched out the window. 

“Any thoughts as to who could have joined us?” Arya murmured. 

Sansa nodded slowly, “A few, but I would not speak the thoughts aloud as they are incomplete and until we see what has arrived I will know not what steps should be taken. Although, I have less and less steps to plan considering Olenna Tyrell is doing a fine job as Hand.”

Arya gave her sister a knowing look, “Struggling to accept you are not the one to shift the cards as often as before?” 

Sansa nodded and Arya bit her lip at the pout on her elder sister’s face. 

“You just said Lady Olenna is doing a fine job,” Arya pointed out and Sansa shot her an irritated look. 

“Of course she is, I picked her. I feel as though I have no use to Westeros anymore beyond being the eldes daughter of Eddard Stark who swore alliegience to a foreign Queen. I do not regret my choices, for I have made my own way and secured power that will never be taken from me, but I do not like feeling insignificant in my home,” Sansa admitted hotly as she let her hands move with her frustration. 

Arya watched her with a brow raised in judgement, “Really, Sansa? You are far from insignifigant. You are a loved and trusted sister, a daughter, and a friend. Those titles are ten times more important than any advising or game planning position could ever be. Mayhaps enjoy your family in this time of inaction?”

Sansa smiled wryly, “Dany said something similar and she has struggled as well being a foreign Queen in a kingdom without many of her own followers surrounding. I think that is partially why she flew with the dragon’s back to White Harbor.”

“What did our dragon-kin say before she left for the sea to await her bear’s return?’ Arya asked as she finally gathered the dagger she kept behind her bed and slipped it into her boot. 

“She said it would always be hard in times of peace to settle down and feel signifigant when one has run solely on a purpose for so long. She told me to find a hobby and to help other people. Did you know she had taken to visiting the orphanage in Wintertown with Margaery and Lady Jonelle? Apparently, Queen Margaery and Empress Daenerys are trying to work out a trade agreement of some sort dealing with the orphaned childred throughout both Westeros and Essos,” Sansa said forlornly. 

“How in the world are we going to trade children?” Arya asked scandalised. 

Sansa looked up in surprise and quickly amended her statement, “Not as goods or anything of the such, but as a way to make sure as many children as possible have a trade to fall into within their skills. Having two countries with different trade opportunities and talents to pull resources from will create goodwill between the two. It could also open the idea of expanding Daenerys’s domain in Essos.” 

“The Bay and the surrounding lands not enough for Her Imperial Highness?” Arya asked curiously. 

Sansa shook her head, “Not as long as suffering and slavery is considered the social normality around her home. If say Volantis or Lys attempt to take one of our free citizens, then we would easily call that an act of war. We work to stabilize our own government, but we will not simply allow those injustices.”

Arya hummed in interest, “I will have to come visit after the wars are over.”

Sansa grinned at her, “You will always be welcome to our home, Arya.”

“I will take you up on that one day, sister. Now, I need to be off before nightfall,” Arya said and reached out to embrace the other woman. They separated and Arya turned and grabbed her pack, swiftly walking away. 

**The Fury **

* * *

Shireen Baratheon felt the wind pick up as she tightened her cloak around her and made way to where Ser Davos was speaking with Gendry and Dale. Their arrival at Dragonstone had been surprising, but welcome. 

“Where is Lord Varys?” she asked curiously. 

“Taken to his cabin for the rest of the morning, apparently writing missives to sources in Essos if his pattern with the ship maester’s ravens is anything to go by,” Dale responded without aplumb. He had learned rather quickly that the Lady Baratheon did not particuraly enjoy a consistent smattering of formality. 

“How do you fare this morning, cousin?” Shireen asked from beside Gendry. He smiled lopsidly at her salutation. Shireen had the distinct feeling the man was completely bewildered but pleased at the idea of having blood family. 

Shireen admitted herself quite pleased with the circumstances as well. She had been spending most of her time helping Gendry with his letters and numbers in return for lessons on different metals and minerals commonly used by blacksmiths. She was also speaking with the Maester of the ship about her lands in the Stormlands as they stood and Gendry sat in on many of her lessons. 

It was quite like having an older brother and Shireen found herself not feeling as alone as she had for so many years among Dragonstone. 

“I fair well, Shireen, and you?” Gendry asked, the words said slowly as if he was testing each one out before speaking. 

“Very. I find the chill on the sea to be refreshing. I cannot remember a time I felt so free,” she said honestly. 

“That’s the stormblood in the both of ya,” Dale’s voice spoke, “For all your raising as small folk or noble, you both belong to Storm’s End and the rocky sea.”

Shireen and Gendry shared a look of camaderie as they let the captain go on. Shireen figured everyone needed a place to belong and if the stormland’s were hers, then she’d be loyal to them all her days. 

“Amber and lumber,” Shireen murmured to herself, amber and lumber to support an economy of a scattered people. 

“How far are we from White Harbor, Captain?” Shireen asked as her mind turned thoughts of trade and economic prosperity over and over again. 

“We should have White Harbor within our sights about a week’s time from now, My Lady,” Ser Davos responded instead of Dale. 

Shireen smiled at him, “I wonder if the dragon’s will be there,” she asked and could almost imagine she could see a shadow of one among the clouds. 

Her eyes narrowed as the shadow did not go away as a figment of her imagination normally would, but appeared to be coming closer. She was about to point it out, but a sailor’s voice sounded before she could even open her mouth. 

“Ships to the North! Black sails and dragon banners!” 

Shireen looked to Gendry who took her firmly by the arm and pulled her back to avoid the running men moving fast as orders were hollered and accepted. 

“Look, Gendry!” she stated excitedly pointing to the sky as a large black dragon swooped downwards towards their ship of stag sails.

“It’s the Dragon Queen,” Gendry murmured to her, “On Drogon.” 

Shireen looked up at him with bright eyes. She was going to meet a dragon. It was about all she had ever dreamed of as a child, ever since learning of her Valyrian blood. 

Dancing back and forth on her feet, she was startled as Jorah Mormont came up beside her from wherever he had been hiding. Motioning them forward as the dragon came beside the ship, moving into a glide which allowed a slim, beautiful woman to jump from his back. Ser Jorah had moved to beside the ship and put a hand out, catching the woman as she jumped and easily sitting her down onto the bow gently. 

It appeared well practiced and graceful as the two moved in sync. 

Shireen watched enraptured as they stared at one another tenderly for a moment before moving apart and Ser Jorah taking a knee. 

“My Empress,” he stated. 

“My bear,” the Empress responded amused as he had already started to stand. 

Jorah was already turning with a hand settling famililarly to the small of the Empress’s back. His other hand swept out as if presenting as he spoke. 

“May I present the Lady Shireen of House Baratheon, Lady Paramount of the Stormlands and her cousin, the Lord Gendry Baratheon.”

Shireen watched as Gendry stepped forward first, “Your Grace, it is good to see you again.”

She watched as Daenerys’s eyes widened in surprise and a smile lit her face. 

“Cousin, I am beyond happy to see you hale and hearty and of a remembering state,” Daenerys said happily, “And you little cousin, it is a pleasure to meet a true child of Orys.” 

“Your Grace,” Shireen dipped a curtsy, her eyes darting back to Drogon in uncontrollable curiousity. 

“Would you like to meet him?” Daenerys asked as she noticed Shireen’s eyes darting behind. 

“YES!” Shireen cursed her tongue as she lost control of her decorum momentarily, but the Empress just laughed. 

“Come,” she motioned Shireen forward and placed a hand on her back as they moved closer to the gliding dragon. Drogon turned and centered his eyes on Shireen. Enraptured she stepped forward and held her hand out as if to a dog. The dragon huffed warm air on her and nuzzled at the hand briefly before turning to fly back into the sky. 

Shireen turned to meet the Empress’s eyes. Daenerys was watching her with a thoughtful expression. 

Shireen was not sure what to make of it, but it was soon forgotten as Ser Davos moved forward to also welcome the Empress aboard  _ The Fury.  _

**The Westerlands **

* * *

Jon watched as the head of Gregor Clegane fell to the ground with a severe lack of dignity. He wished he could feel bad over not giving the man his just due before a court and proper execution, but the man deserved no such courtesy. 

Amory Lorch was already cowering to the side, bleeding profusly from the side wound that Loras had given him. The luck of finding the two men together was both relieving and worrying when he thought of the terror they had probably afflicted among the neighboring towns of where they had been hiding. 

Jon met Loras’s eyes with compassion as the man watched Gregor’s head roll several feet. 

“Justice for your siblings and stepmother,” Loras said simply. 

“Justice for Renly,” Jon responded and watched as Loras’s eyes brightened with emotion only briefly, before pushing down the onslaught of feelings behind a hood. He nodded staunchly to Jon and Jon knew that they had forged a brotherhood today that had not existed prior. 

Jon took a deep breath and looked to his Uncle, Ser Selmy, and Jaime. 

“We need to pack the heads onto ice. Loras and Ser Barristan will be coming with me, but you two will be returning to Winterfell,” he ordered and watched as both the other men geared up to argue. 

Jon cut them off before either could start, “You are the Lord of Winterfell and you are the heir to the Westerlands. Vargas can only carry three the entirety of the way to Dorne and Loras is the least controversial of the rest of you.”

“My King, it is not safe for you to go just with two others. What if Prince Doran does not believe you?” Jaime demanded. 

Jon sighed and faced both his father and Jaime with serious eyes that would brook no arguement. 

“Loras is going to officially be with me to offer the hand in friendship to set aside the feud between Martell and Tyrell. This was discussed and decided already with my Hand. I will put faith in the letters from my stepmother where she clearly demonstrates faith in her own family to accept me as one of their own,” Jon stated before pausing.

He looked to Ser Barristan and Loras before finishing, “Besides I am not just taking two others. I am taking the Commander of the King’s Guard and the future Commander of the Queen’s Guard.”

All the men turned and looked at him as Jon finished. 

“Queen’s Guard, Your Grace?” Ser Barristan asked quietly. 

Jon nodded, “Never again will a queen be left to the mercy of the king. The royal guard will be comprised of two parts with loyalty oaths sworn to their King or Queen.”

There was quiet for a long while as the words settled over the men, before Ned came up and put a hand on Jon’s shoulder. 

“It is well done, Jon,” he said proudly, “Well done, indeed.” 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Dorne, to White Harbor, to Winterfell, people arrive and people began to learn the truth.

**The Border of the Reach and Dorne **

* * *

Jon stared out over the landscape. They had landed out the outskirts of the border of the Reach, Dorne, and the Stormlands and the Marches and Red Mountains stood in front of them. He heard Loras come to stand beside him. 

“Have you thought of how we are to approach Prince Doran? Being that it is Dorne, I do not feel that riding Vargas into Sunspear the best option,” Loras murmured. 

“Aye, the thought had crossed my mind. I was of the thought we will fly above the clouds and land a decent ways from the city and go the rest of the way on foot. Surely between the three of use we can carry two salted heads by hand,” Jon responded. 

“You will have to help, Your Grace. Ser Loras or myself has to have a sword arm free,” Ser Barristan said musing and looked up when Loras snorted. 

Jon grinned at Loras, glad his good-brother had truly taken the measure of him already. 

“Aye, Ser Barristan. I did not expect Loras or yourself to be lugging the heads into Sunspear,” Jon chuckled and only waved off the apology that Ser Barristan began to make. 

“You will find, Ser, that I am not your usual type of King. I was not raised royalty and have no qualms about being rough around the edges,” Jon admitted honestly. 

“The rough around the edges is the reason you are so blessed in life to have my sister as your wife, good-brother,” Loras japed. 

Jon looked up and Loras felt a measure of comfort at the soft look Jon always seem to have in his eyes when speaking of Margaery. 

“My wife is a blessing in all things, Loras. She is everything I never knew I wanted or needed,” then Jon turned away as if the words left him uncomfortable and bereft. He was a bit away and began to rub on Vargas, Ghost brushing up against his legs. 

“He reminds me of Queen Rhaella,” Ser Barristan said as he stood by Loras. 

Loras looked over to him and raised a brow, “Many say he is Ned Stark remade.”

Ser Barristan smiled, “Aye, I can see the North Lord in our King in many ways, appearance besides. Still, he has a gentleness for all his ferocity as a dragon and savagery as wolf and that reminds me of the Queen Rhaella. He seems happy with your sister as his wife. I cannot think of a time where we had a King who loved his wife truly.”

Loras nodded, “He loves Margaery and she him. They spent nearly every waking hour together and every night from the day they stood and took their vows. We all knew Margaery would do her duty, but to see her happy in that duty is most pleasing. You should tell him of his grandmother. It would make him smile.” 

Ser Barristan nodded his agreement, “Aye, that I will. His choice for a Queen’s Guard will go over well with many of the noblemen who have daughters. A large amount of them have been blessed with many of the female persuasion in the years since the rebellion. His protection of his Queen could easily start a trend of people giving their own female kin more consideration.” 

Loras hummed his agreement as he took a deep drink from his wineskin. 

“Let Margaery be in trouble just once and you will see the true ferocity of a dragon. When we were in Winterfell there was an attempt of robbery when we had gone for a ride a good ways from the keep. Margaery and and the Princess Arya were separated from us and Jon went wild. I learned his true skill that day and though I never knew the man, I would say that Jon rivaled Ser Arthur Dayne. He cut through the lines like butter before we could even reach the first brigand,” Loras took a deep breath and turned to meet Barristan’s eyes directly. 

“When he reached Margaery and all the men lay dead at our feet, he pulled her into his arms and held her as if she were glass, trembling the entire time. We stayed a good bit away, but I could hear him whisper that he would keep her safe. He would keep her safe whether it be by blood and fire or ice,” Loras stopped again and took another breath before finishing. 

“I don’t know anyone that truly loved their sister that could find any fault in a man that would protect her at all costs. A King that fights for his own Queen’s protection.”

Ser Barristan was quiet for a bit, before remarking dryly, “We are going to have a time of making him understand the point of the King’s Guard aren’t we?” 

Loras laughed outright as Jon returned to them. 

“Vargas has rested enough and is ready to fly the last leg,” Jon informed them as he knelt down beside Ghost. 

“Travel hard, boy, and meet us on the way back,” Jon murmured to his wolf and stood as Ghost took off towards the mountains. 

“Let’s go,” Jon ordered as he made way back to Vargas, his guard following behind. 

  
  
  


**Sunspear**

* * *

Prince Doran Martell sat watched the water change color as dusk began. He sighed and looked to his brother who was reading over the missive Doran had summoned him for. 

“An army amassing in the North, but no actual news of why? The Tyrell’s have left Highgarden with the exception of the Lord Paramount himself? This makes no sense, Doran. You cannot convince me that the Tyrell’s suddenly thought it a good idea to marry their precious rose to the dog’s heir?” Oberyn remarked as he threw the spy note back to the desk. 

“There is more,” Doran said quietly, “They say that the Dragon’s banner flies over Winterfell and Dragonstone, but no other news was forthcoming. They also say that the Spider himself has slipped away from King’s Landing for the cold of the North.” 

Oberyn shook his head, “You have summoned Arianne back? I saw her on my way here. Have you spoken with her about the mess you made of her betrothal and secret plans?” 

Doran shot Oberyn a quelching glare, but Oberyn shrugged and raised an eyebrow at his older brother. 

“Yes. I told her the truth of it and of the death of the young dragon. She is quite pleased with her understanding that she will be inheriting Dorne now, but is refusing to speak to me,” Doran dryly informed his brother. 

Oberyn nodded, knowing the prickly nature of his own niece ,”I brought Tyene with me as requested and she has gone to sequester herself with her cousin.” 

“Good, good,” Doran muttered as he looked over the random piece of correspondence received in the last few moons. There was a game afoot and he did not have all the pieces. He picked another random piece of information that stated Lord Jon Arryn had gone North to Winterfell and that his own banners were being called. 

The Lannister’s in King’s Landing were almost eerily quiet and he did not like it. He’d heard that nasty business of the crazed Boy King killing his father’s bastards in a night of blood and fury. It made Doran’s blood freeze at the idea of more babies being bashed against walls at the whim of the Lannister’s. 

He had no doubt that boy was pure lion. Oberyn had long since put that together since his own daughter Sarella had pointed out that no Baratheon get having ever been born with fair colors. He was tempted to ask Oberon to call Sarella to court to see if her eyes could find any pattern or hint in their reports for what was occurring. 

“My Prince?” a voice called from the door and both Oberyn and himself turned to see one of the palace pages standing there. 

“Yes, boy?” Oberyn asked as he finally took a seat. 

“There are three men here to see you…,” the boy dwindled off. 

“And they are…” Doran asked, amusement slipping into his voice without meaning to. 

The page looked perplexed, “It is...Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Loras Tyrell, and a man who only said his name was Jon of House Stark. They have a chest, but said they couldn't open it but before you. They said it is a gift of atonement.” 

Oberyn and Doran shared a look and finally Doran nodded to the boy and called his guards. 

They waited as the three men were brought in, the chest being carried by Loras Tyrell and a dark haired man, who was still almost a boy. The heir of Winterfell was Robb Stark. Who was this Jon?

Then it became stranger as the boy is the one who took the lead. Ser Barristan and Ser Loras both stepping back to either side of the boy and hands on their swords as if guarding the dark haired mystery. 

Doran looked over at Oberyn to see if there was any recognition on his brother’s face, but besides a slightly inappropriate gaze drifting over this Jon, there was nothing to indicate Oberyn had any idea. The boy seemed to notice Oberyn's blatant interest and Doran watched amused as the boy turned bright scarlet and the Tyrell boy glared at Oberyn. 

“Prince Doran, Prince Oberyn, I thank you for seeing us without delay. I must ask bluntly if you trust your guard in this room indiscriminately to protect all secrets of House Martell to the death,” the boy said and Doran’s eyebrows almost rose with the direct way information had just been relayed. 

“My guard will hold their tongues if I wish it,” Doran Martell said slowly and watched as the boy seemed to ponder the words, but finally nodded before stepping aside to the chest. 

“I would ask that you allow explanations of all matters to be told, before reacting to my direct knowledge,” Jon said, almost shyly. 

He indicated for the box to be open and Doran could see Oberyn visibly wanting to stand and lean forward to see better. 

“My Uncle, the Lord of Winterfell of House Stark, formally asks forgiveness for his lateness in enacting justice for the Princess Elia and Prince Aegon, first born boy to Rhaegar, and the Princess Rhaenys,” the boy began and Doran felt as if the entire room had gone silent. 

The chest opened and the stench of rotting decay reached his nose with the strong tang of salt. 

“I bring you the heads of Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch,” the boy finished and suddenly the room seemed to come alive again as Doran felt Oberyn reach out and grasp his hand in a strange occurrence of emotion not usually portrayed by his brother. 

“Is there a reason this was done now?” Doran made himself ask, “Now, that the usurper is dead?” 

The boy looked at him sadly, “It waited because of protecting me,” he answered slowly and pulled something else from his pocket. 

“I would give you these and ask that you please read them all before acting. I...I would like them back, but would understand if you did not wish it,” the boy said and held them out. Oberyn himself came to grasp them from the boy’s hand and Doran watched as both the men behind the boy watched Oberyn as if he were a threat. 

Oberyn gasped as he looked down and brought them to Doran. 

“It is written in Elia’s hand brother,” Oberyn stated in shock. Doran took the letter and opened the first one as the boy stood on. 

He read the first few lines and his eyes widened beyond his control. By the end he knew that he was shaking and he handed the letter over to Oberyn as he opened the second document that turned out to be a marriage certificate, all signed between Rhaegar, Elia, and Lyanna Stark. 

“There are more letters, but I brought those I thought most important. The bottom one is to you both,” the boy finally spoke again and Doran could hear the hesitancy and the fear in his voice. 

He looked to Oberyn and nodded agreement at what he saw in his brother’s eyes. It would be impossible to do anything else but to act on Elia’s wishes. Regardless of what was thought in the past, it was Elia’s wish to be a mother to this boy and to have Lyanna as wife. 

“You are making a claim for the throne?” Oberyn finally said. 

“There is no claim to be had,” Loras hissed, “It is a succession, not an ascension. He is the King.” 

Oberyn and Doran nodded along.

“Still…” Doran began, “King’s Landing is the seat of the King and you are not on the Iron Throne.”

“Prince Doran,” Jon began, but Doran cut him off. 

“Uncle,” he said flatly and watched in amusement as the boy’s cheeks flushed. Doran also watched as Oberon grimaced with chagrin at his prior perusal. 

“Uncle...perhaps, you would look out the window again. I did not have him land, due to the fact that...well, this is Dorne and it would not particularly be appropriate to land him in Sunspear,” Jon explained and Doran looked out the window in curiosity. 

As a shadow dipped below the clouds and came into momentary view before gliding back into the cloud, Doran looked at Oberyn who was suddenly grinning. 

“I have a daughter….” Doran began, but Loras Tyrell cut him off. 

“The King has taken my sister Margaery to wife,” he stated bluntly before the offer could be made. 

“We would be willing to look at a granddaughter or daughter of either yourself or Prince Oberyn marrying one of my sons if they are of an age,” Jon offered, regardless of the way his stomach twisted at the offer, but Margaery had assured him that the match would be good. 

Doran nodded his agreement, but Oberyn cut in. 

“All my daughters are bastards,” he said cuttingly and that was the moment that the King won over Oberyn Martell. 

“Your point?” the King bluntly responded and that was that. 

**White Harbor**

* * *

Gendry smiled as he helped Shireen down from the ship. Daenerys came down beside them with Jorah at her side and flanked by two unsullied. 

Gendry breathed deep and marveled at the way he felt relief flood over him at being back in the North. He was close to Arya and soon they would be wed and he would never have to leave her side again. 

“Gendry, who is that watching you?” Shireen asked and he looked up and followed her gaze. He inhaled sharply as his eyes met Arya’s. She was standing to the side of what was obvious their escort into the city and the keep. 

Arya waited no longer and rushed forward to throw her arms around his neck. He lifted her up and held her close. 

“Are you ready to make war, my love?” Arya asked as she stepped back to smile up at him. 

“My hammer is yours,” he responded. 

Arya snorted, “Just make sure no one knifes me in the back.” 

Gendry laughed and turned to motion Shireen forward, “This is the Lady Shireen of Storm’s End.”

“Well met, Lady Shireen, I thank you greatly for returning this great buffoon to me. He’s been well missed,” Arya said by way of greeting. 

Shireen just smiled wide eyed and dipped a slight curtsy, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess Arya.” 

Arya opened her mouth to argue, but Daenerys cut her off. 

“Good-sister, perhaps we could move forward to see Lord Manderly. I’d like to travel to Winterfell as soon as possible. Any news about Margaery and the babe?” 

Arya grinned and nodded, “Crown Prince Aemon and Princess Lyanna of House Targaryen were born to the Queen in quick succession one moon gone now.”

Daenerys laughed uproariously, “I told Margaery she was much too big to only have one babe.” 

Daenerys calmed after a moment, “Any word from Jon?” 

Arya nodded as they began to travel towards the wheelhouse waiting for them. Arya wrinkled her nose as they climbed in, but allowed it so they could continue talking. 

“He has reached Dorne. Father and Jaime Lannister are on their way North. I anticipate them arriving soon after we do. Lady Lannister...Ser Brienne, I am not a hundred percent sure which one she will prefer, has already arrived with Tommen and Marcella. Father travels with documents to legitimize them as Lannister’s from Jon,” Arya explained as Gendry contented himself with watching her and knowing he had finally found her in this life. 

Daenerys nodded along. 

  
  


“Prince Aemon and Princess Lyanna. How wondrous,” the Empress murmured after a moment. 

Arya just smiled at her and nodded, before allowing herself to lean back into Gendry to rest as they made way to the Merman’s court. 

**Winterfell **

* * *

Sansa held the Princess Lyanna and gazed down at the child’s bright purple eyes. It seemed the Targaryen blood was finally ringing true for Jon. The tuft of white blonde hair across the child’s head was the second indicator. She looked to her Mother who was holding Prince Aemon and staring at the babe with equal admiration. 

Sansa could not help but smile. Her mother had taken to loving Jon’s children as if they were her own grandchildren. Sansa could see no difference in the soft way her mother stared at Allanys or Lyanna and Aemon. 

A quiet call from the Queen’s bedchamber drew her attention and Sansa hurried to Margaery’s side with the babe in her arms. Margaery was propped against the pillows and Sansa’s own child sitting beside her. 

Allanys was growing quickly in Sansa’s mind at eleven moons old, but her firstborn was smart and quick. Sansa was beyond in love with her daughter and knew that she already loved the child quickening inside of her as well. 

No one knew yet, but Maester Luwin, and he had the wherewithal to suggest ginger tea to her. Sansa had immediately began drinking it to help abate the nausea she was plagued with this time. The Maester said this was a good indication of a boy. 

Sansa took in Margaery’s coloring. The Queen looked much better than she had for the last few nights since the babes were born. The birthing had been hard and the young Queen had struggled. Sansa was glad Jon had not been here to see it. 

“Your Grace,” Sansa murmured as she brought Lyanna close and slipped the child into the Queen’s arms. Margaery smiled brilliantly at her daughter. 

“She is so beautiful, Sansa. I did not know you could love something so much,” Margaery whispered as she ran her fingers over Lyanna’s cheek. Her daughter looked up with wide eyes. 

“Aye, I understand,” Sansa said as she reached out for Allanys, who quickly clambored to her mother. 

“Mama,” the child smiled as Sansa swept her up. 

“Poppet,” Sansa smiled back. 

“Dada!” Allanys demanded immediatly. Sansa chuckled. 

“Your father is still hunting with your Uncle Robb,” she chided as she sat with her daughter besides the Queen bed. 

“They should be home soon, little sweetlings,” Lady Catelyn said as she joined them with Prince Aemon who was quickly deposited into his mother’s arms. 

“Shall we call for the wet nurse?” Lady Catelyn said as she took in the weariness of the Queen. 

“No, I would nurse them myself today,” Margaery said quietly and Sansa knew the girl was worried she was not producing enough milk for the children. The time after the birth where she had been healing had started the process of her being unable to nurse her children, but she had been staunchly attempting it since regaining consciousness. 

Sansa handed her own daughter to Lady Catelyn and hurried over to help her good-sister. While it might be in vain, Sansa well knew that this would probably be the only children the girl would be able to nurse without judgement from courtiers and courtly standards. 

“Lady Stark!” a voice called from the door and Catelyn excused herself, still holding Allanys, to see what was happening. 

“Yes?” she asked as she came into the sitting area. 

“Riders at the gate! I think you should come…,” the man said with a nervous voice. 

“Who is it?” Catelyn asked in curiosity as Sansa entered to take Allanys from her. 

The man tilted his head as if trying to decide how to answer, “Well, I am not completely sure, having only been to the Red Keep once with Lord Tyrell when I was a lad, but I would swear that Tommen and Myrcella, children of Cersei Lannister are at the gate with a very large blonde woman. She said she is the Lady Lannister.” 

Sansa gasped, “Brienne...Mother, it must be!” 

“Send for the nursemaid, immediately,” Lady Catelyn ordered and started to straighten her clothes. Sansa did the same and as soon as they had let Margaery know of what was occurring and the nursemaid in place, they hurried from the King’s Tower. Lady Olenna joined them as they made way to the gates. 

They came to a halt as they came upon them. Sansa sighed in relief at the sight of Brienne. 

“Lady Sansa,” Brienne said in relief. 

“Brienne,” Sansa breathed out as she realized the woman knew her. She looked at Myrcella and Tommen. They both looked to be okay and not hurt or distressed. 

Marcella looked at her and dipped a quick curtsy and Tommen followed with a bow. 

Sansa looked to Brienne. 

“Jaime told them the truth before sending us on to Winterfell. They understand the way of things,” Brienne said quietly. 

“Do they know what…” Sansa began but drifted off. Surely Jaime had not told the children of how they had died. 

“No, but they know enough to know what is going to happen and why,” Brienne explained. 

Sansa sighed and looked to Olenna Tyrell who was watching them all with a pensive expression. 

“Boy,” the woman finally barked and Tommen’s eyes shot up. He was no more than ten years of age, Sansa quickly calculated, and just as innocent as she remembered. To think it would be four years from now when Margaery and Tommen had wed in the original timeline. 

“You have no desire for the throne your brother currently sits on?” the Queen of Thorns watched through small eyes as Tommen shook his head rather vigorously. 

Sansa watched Myrcella as the Hand payed attention to Tommen. Myrcella did not give much away, but she could see the girls hands fisted in her skirts. 

“Myrcella,” she said quietly and the girl looked up. 

“I know this is much, but please know that you will find nothing but safety and peace here. No harm will come to you or Tommen,” she swore to the girl and Myrcella watched wide eyed before nodding her understanding. 

“Thank you, Lady Sansa,” she quietly responded. Sansa was hit upon with an idea. 

“I heard the barn cat has just had kittens. Perhaps, we should see to the horses and see about visiting the proud mother’s litter?” Sansa remarked and ignored the non-plussed look Lady Olenna gave her. 

“Then we shall see about baths, food, and rest,” Sansa stated and looked to Brienne for permission to run off with her stepchildren, “If that is alright with your Stepmother?” 

Tommen excitedly looked to Brienne, while Myrcella seemed once again to struggle over the words. Finally, Sansa watched as the girl took a deep breath and turned to Brienne herself. 

“Would that be alright, Stepmother?” the girl asked hesitantly. 

Sansa watched, a small amount of happiness swelling inside of her, when Brienne beamed at the girl in pride. 

“Yes, Myrcella, of course. Mind the Lady Sansa and have fun. I will see you in a while,” Brienne responded as Lady Catelyn motioned to several grooms to come forward and help. 

“Be welcome to Winterfell, Lady Lannister. May I offer you bread and salt?” Lady Stark asked as the children left. 

Brienne looked at her, “That would be most welcome, Lady Stark, and may I say….it is wonderful to see you alive and well. You as well, Lady Hand” 

Lady Stark startled as did Lady Olenna, but they quickly motioned the woman forward and into the great keep. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The board is almost set and the stakes have been placed. 
> 
> In King's Landing the Lion's begin to fear the dragon's vengeance.

**Winterfell - Margaery**

* * *

It was an odd thing to know that your husband was twice the age he appeared and had a life full of other experiences. She shuddered as she thought of what was coming and made herself take calming breaths as she looked upon her children. They were growing so fast and soon they would be going on their very first journey. 

She sighed heavily as she moved to the window and watched below. The men were moving back and forth in the yards as they prepared for the retinue leaving. They would go first to meet Jon, Loras, and Ser Selmy at the Twins. She would see her husband and introduce him to his children only briefly before they separated again. She and the children would travel to the Eyrie and Jon would travel to King’s Landing. 

The arrival of Jaime Lannister and his damning letters declaring his siring of Cersei Lannister’s children had long since been sent. It was known that Tywin Lannister had called his banners and while most of the Westerland houses had rallied to Tywin a few had rallied to Jaime.

Margaery walked back to the two cradles that held her growing babes. She brushed her fingers over each of them and then over the dragon eggs nestled by each babe that Daenerys had brought up from the Stark crypts with Sansa’s help. Leaning down she brushed back the black curls of Aemon and kissed her forhead as he sniffled in his sleep. 

The nursemaid arrived with little Allanys who was making her displeasure of being seperated from her parents known with kicking and wailing. 

Margaery excused herself from their quarters and climbed the stairs to her grandmother’s solar. 

There was no one in the solar of the Hand of the King, the Lady Hand being in the Great Hall meeting with many of the Lord’s who had rallied to Winterfell before the march south. Still, Margaery made her way to the great map that had been laid out over a table in the middle of the room. She ran her fingers over the sigil markers for territories with the lion or dragon sigil showing allegiances. 

She was still amazed at how the realms had rallied. 

Shireen Baratheon firmly brought the Stormlands, to everyone’s shock, given that she was young and female. It seemed that the letters of the royal children’s bastardry and the murder of Renly Baratheon by the King’s Landing lions pressed them into supporting the unlikely candidate. 

Margaery’s fingers rested over the marker for Storm’s End and ran along the lines to Sunspear where her husband had secured the last of the realms they would bring into the fold before the Iron throne. She moved her hand over the table watching the route Jon was flying back to the North with. She stopped again at Harrenhal where Jon would finally join with the rest of the allies, beyond those that would be moving into formation around Blackwater Bay. 

“The Stormlands, the Eyrie, the Reach, the North, Dorne, and the Iron Islands. If we were not living it, my girl, I would be loath to believe it,” Olenna Tyrell said from the door and Margaery looked up to smile at her grandmother. 

“I will be glad when we may join House Lannister and the Westerlands to those sworn to House Targaryen, Grandmother,” Margaery murmured. 

“Do you think Tywin Lannister will attempt to forward on our army? Or will he stay to reinforce King’s Landing?” Margaery asked as she walked around the table. 

“Hmm, I am no general, but Lord Robb seems to think that he will stay in King’s Landing. We have left not much choice for anything other than retreat,” Olenna answered, “The Lannister’s have no more allies.” 

Margaery hummed in agreement and could not help but flick a finger out over King’s Landing. There was a strange sense of satisfcation as the lion tumbled over. 

  
  


**The Twins - Jon **

* * *

Jon walked among the men as he moved from camp to camp, Ser Selmy at his back this time. Loras was with the rest of the Tyrell men that had joined them with the Dornish and the Arryn men this side of the Twins. 

“Hail the King!” voices resounded as he went among the different banners, indicating he had left Martell and entered into the the Arryn camp. It was here that he found himself grinning as met Gendry with a hand clasp. 

“Is Arya…?” he began before the small brunette in question was flying into his arms. 

“You grew,” he muttered as he held his sister close. It had been only a year’s turn since he had left Winterfell for the South but Arya was truly a woman now. He looked between her and Gendry for any indication of their circumstances. 

“Our camp is next to the Arryn camp on the other side of the twins. Gendry flew us over on Rhaegal,” Arya grinned mischieviosuly at Jon. 

Jon looked up surprised at Gendry and the man sheepishly shrugged, “Turns out there was enough dragon blood in our veins for Shireen to bond Viserion and Rhaegal to me.” 

Jon hummed in consideration. That was a relief all on its own. It would be much harder for the Night King to bring down a dragon with a rider. He felt Vargas descending and sped up his walk to where he figured Rhaegal was. 

“And the Freys? Have they considered my offer?” Jon asked, “I thought it generous.” 

Arya snorted, “They said they’d let the army cross, but would not remove themselves from the Twins. Even with Rhaegal flying in circles overhead, that old lecher would not even consider stepping down as Lord of the Twins.” 

Jon looked at his sister and found her grinning savagely at him and he sighed. 

“Then I suppose we will have to rip them out, root and stem,” the light voice of his aunt came from behind him as they moved into the clearing where both Rhaegal and Drogon were roosting. 

Jon turned and shook his head, “You should be in Winterfell, Aunt. Not on the first battlefield of this war.” 

Daenerys snorted as she came up and embraced Jon, “I am not going to sit around and stew while part of my family makes war. Viserion and Shireen are with the group marching South, but I believe Lord Arryn carries news from the Lady Hand about the plans for the Queen and your heirs protection.”

Jon felt his heart seize at the mention of Margaery and his children. 

“Tell me of them, Aunt...Arya. I have received correspondence, but no one that has seen them has told me,” Jon could not help but ask, but held his hand up before they could begin. 

“Hold one moment, Vargas is here,” Jon said as the large dragon landing with a loud thud. Drogon almost immediatly growled and Vargas snapped right back before their riders came inbetween them. 

The dragons looked at their riders in chagrinement as they were scolded. Drogon went so far as to turn his back and lie down in a huff. Jon watched as Daenerys pursed her lips in her child’s active pouting. 

Raising them a second time had allowed for Daenerys to secure more control over Drogon from the beginning as she knew that was where the bond would exist between dragon and rider. He would be willing to bet the bonding of Viserion and Rhaegal made the link even stronger without two others hindering the connection. 

Dragons situated, they all sat on the grassy clearing and Jon listed enraptured as his family told him of his children. 

Hours later when he was laying down in his tent, Jon let himself dream of the future for only a moment, but went to sleep with a smile on his face. 

_ The wind blew around his face as he stood on a hill overlooking a field where a tournament was set to take place. A movement to his left caused him to look to his left and he found his young cousin standing with him.  _

_ “Bran,” he breathed out and the boy nodded with a smile.  _

_ Jon smiled back, “Did you make it North to the Three Eyed Raven?”  _

_ Bran nodded, “I did and I am learning. We will not fail this time, Jon.” _

_ Jon looked around and noticed that people were now moving around the grounds below. _

_ “Where are we…,” he began and then noticed the Targaryen flag flying.  _

_ “When are we?” he amended.  _

_ Bran smiled at him, “I thought you might like to see the beginning. This is the Tourney of Harrenhal where the Princess Elia first saw the Princess Lyanna.”  _

_ Jon froze as the world seemed to spin and there they were suddenly in a tent away from the open air.  _

_ There were two women inside. One, Jon, knew could be none other than his mother and dressed as the Knight of the Laughing Tree.  _

_ “Your royal highness, I promise you I am fine,” his mother said quietly as the other paced the floor of the tent.  _

_ “Ser Arthur?” she called out and Jon gaped as the Sword of the Morning himself stuck his head in.  _

_ “Yes, Princess?” he asked and his eyes widened at the sight of a maid in mismatched pieces of chainmail.  _

_ Elia gave him a serious look, “You will keep all others away from entering this tent unless it is mine own husband.” _

_ Ser Arthur gave her a critical look, but finally nodded sharply.  _

_ Elia turned back to her patient.  _

_ “I told you…” Lyanna began, but Elia cut her off.  _

_ “You are betrothed to Lord Robert Baratheon?” she asked calmly and Jon watched as his mother turned as red as a summer rose.  _

_ “Unfortunatly,” Lyanna ground out and looked up with widened eyes as Elia laughed.  _

_ Jon saw the way his mother suddenly blushed as Elia’s entire focus centered onto her and the Dornish princess came up to his mother and peered into her eyes.  _

_ “My husband and I have been talking about something quite scandalous, but that which we feel necessary. I think you could possibly help us,” Elia said quietly.  _

_ Jon could see the confusion on his mother’s face.  _

_ “What do you mean? Why me?” Lyanna practically whispered.  _

_ Elia laughed again, this time lightly and with a serious edge. She tilted her head and considered her words. Jon could see the thoughts practically dancing behind her eyes.  _

_ “You wonder why we would want a woman brave enough to dress as a man and take on a bunch of full grown bullies trained for battle?” Elia said teasingly and Jon watched enraptured as his mother blushed again before asking bluntly.  _

_ “Want?”  _

_ The sound of the curtain to the tent moving distracting Jon and the women and Jon’s breath caught as his father walked through.  _

Hours later Jon was awakened sharply with shouting. 

“Your Grace!” Loras rushed in and Jon scrambled up. 

“What is it?” Jon demanded as he grabbed his shirt and jerkin, already dressing as Loras spoke. 

“Arya says to come quick. There is a woman at the edge of the camp who says she must speak with the King immediately,” Loras said out of breath. 

Jon looked up confused, “Did she say who she was?” 

Loras grinned then, “She says her name is Talisa of House Stark and she is the wife of Robb Stark, regardless of having been previously dead.”

Jon felt his breath leave him for the second time in one night and he said a slight prayer to the old God’s in thanks. 

“Do we know that she is who she says she is?” he asked as they exited the tent, Ser Barristan joining Loras at his back. 

“Arya is with her and she said she believes her, Your Grace,” Ser Barristan remarked as they passed tent and flags and men. 

A few shouts went up as they moved through the camp, but Jon was getting better and acknowledging with a nod, but not slowing his progress at each distraction. 

They made way to a central open air tent where Jon could already see a beautiful foreign woman talking with his sister. They slowed as the reached the tent and the women turned their attention. 

The women dipped a graceful curtsy, “Your Grace.” 

“Lady Talisa,” Jon said in response, “Please stand without formality. It seems we are kin, though I am afraid your husband knows of you, but does not remember you.” 

The woman stood and there was a fierceness in her eyes that made Jon immediatly understand what his brother saw in her. 

“It does not matter whether my husband remembers me or not. We married before a heart tree and he is mine and I am his. Now, they say you are his cousin, though I know not where you were the first time around, and I demand you see me safely to my husband,” the woman snapped and Jon’s eyes widened before he had to hold back laughter. 

He grinned, “It pleases me, My Lady, to inform you that your husband marches to the Twin’s as we speak. He is escorting my own wife and my children.”

Jon sombered at the look that crossed the former Queen in the North’s face. It was a heartbreaking thing to see and he was extremely glad to see his Aunt sweep beside him. 

Daenerys encircled the woman’s shoulders. 

“I lost my son, Rhaego, to betrayel before he ever took his first breath. Come, Lady Talisa, and we will break our fast and find a place for you to get some much needed rest before Lord Robb arrives,” Daenerys murmured and led the woman away. 

Talisa stopped and turned once to look back at Jon, “The men in those towers…” 

Jon held a hand to stop her and walked up so that she could see his eyes, “I swear that they will be removed from this place and they will never harm Robb or yourself again.” 

Talisa gave a tight nod, before letting herself be led away. 

**Winterfell- Sansa **

* * *

Sansa stood on the battlements as it seemed she had a million times in this lifetime and the end of the last. It had been days since she had watched the last of the Tyrell, Targaryen, Arryn, and Stark flags had vanished into the woods. She looked over to Theon who was standing with Rickon beside him. 

Rickon, a boy of barely four years who was currently the Stark in Winterfell. Her mother was somewhere below taking care of the daily business of keeping Winterfell and the North running. Her father and so many others were gone to meet with Jon and onto King’s Landing or the Eyrie. They had wanted her to go to the Eyrie with Margaery and Allanys, but Sansa could not bring herself to leave Winterfell just yet. 

She needed to be in her childhood home for as long as possible. She knew that when the Long Night came again they would need her to be in King’s Landing. Margaery and herself would see to the running of the capital and the evacuation to Essos if all went wrong again. 

“Sansa,” Theon said quietly and she smiled at him. 

He walked over after insructing Rickon to not stand so close to the edge. 

“Yes, My love?” she asked as he embraced her. She leaned back into him and breathed deep of the scent that was half salt regardless of how far they came from the sea. 

“You must not get so lost in your thoughts. It will be okay,” he murmured against her hair as his hand came to rub at the small of her stomach where their second child was just starting to round out her belly. 

Sansa sighed softly, “It must be, husband, it must.” 

  
  
  


**Kings Landing- Cersei Lannister **

* * *

Cersei did not understand how everything had gone so wrong, so fast. Her two youngest children had vanished with Jamie and the ravens that had arrived with his damning statement were enough to make her scream. 

How dare he betray their family…their bond. She looked over to her father who was standing with Joffrey. He looked over to her once and then turned away in disgust. 

She looked down to the paper curled in her hand. 

_ The Twins have fallen. They march on King’s Landing. Flee now.  _

Cersei leaned back and took another sip of wine from her goblet. Already the sweet arbor red was making her vision haze. 

“What do you mean we are not going to go and kill that bastard!” Joffrey screeched and Cersei winced at the high pitched sound. 

Her father sighed and leaned down, “Because we have not the men. Even half of my own damn bannerman are refusing to come and fight. The best we can hope for is the sellswords we are bargaining for making it in time. If not then I fear we will need to flee...Westeros.”

Cersei wrinkled her nose. They would run...just like the dragons had almost two decades prior. The only difference was it would be lion blood spilling into the waters this time. 

The sound of the Maggy’s voice resounded in her head again as always,  _ "When your tears have drowned you, the Valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you." _

Cersei drank deep and tossed her cup down onto the ground and watched as it rolled across the floor to stop at her father’s and son’s feet. 

“It seems that our time is limited,” she snarled as she tossed the crumpled paper onto the table and marched out, hand coming out to swipe the bottle of wine from the table as she swept from the room. 

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions galore and first meetings. We grow closer and closer to the battle of King's Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been one of my favorite chapters to write so far.

**The Twins **

**Jon **

* * *

Jon stood in front of the Water Tower, particularly pleased with the way they had taken the Twins. Arya had been of the opinion that she should just enter as before and poison the grouping of Frey men in the keep. 

She had argued the fact quite loudly, but the fact that Walder Frey had not had the opportunity to draw together his actual full host of four thousand allowed for a fairly easy taking of the castle with the dragons. 

A portion of the Eastern Castle was in shambles after Rhaegal’s tail had knocked a tower over with Gendry holding on for dear life. The unsullied that they had flown to the tops of the castle towers with their dragons had quietly and quickly taken the castles and opened the gates to allow for their host to have easy access. 

Now, he had a slew of Frey men in the dungeons and a gaggle of Frey women he had no idea what to do with. Walder Frey was to be found guilty of treason, as were his eldest sons, but many members of the family would be given the choice of the wall or death. Jon was quietly ignoring the part of his conscience that sounded like Ned Stark that was screaming injustice as these men had not committed the crimes they had the first time around. One look at his cousin’s wife had swept away the last of his reservations. 

Lady Talisa Stark might have been one of the fiercest ladies Jon had ever met, but her abject recoiling of the Frey men was enough to chill even the hardest heart. 

She was currently moving through the camp and seeing to the general health of the men from all camps. To her joy her good-sister had joined her, Arya offering protection, but to both their chagrin Jon had decreed that they would not travel to and fro without Nymeria, Ghost, and a gaggle of Northern guards. 

_ “I don’t need a guard!” Arya seethed.  _

_ Jon did not back down, “You will not traipse around with the future Lady of Winterfell without at least one full escort of Northern men. You can protect yourself and probably Lady Talisa, but I will not dishonor our brother without giving what the men consider his future wife her proper due!”  _

_ Arya shut her mouth and glared, “I remember when you told half the Northern Lord’s to sit down, shut up, and you didn’t give two licks about their perceived slights.”  _

_ Jon snorted, “There was barely anyone left and we were fighting just to survive. Now, we are fighting for the future and I would not do anything to make it more difficult for any of my family than I already have. Lady Talisa will already have her work cut out for her as a foreign lady.” _

_ Arya put her hand on Jon’s arm and he looked down into his little sister’s face as she spoke softly.  _

_ “You are not the cause of all that is happening Jon. We did not go to war because you made us. We are going to war because it is the right thing to do.” _

_ Jon sighed. He wanted to believe they were making the right choices with all that they were doing. His children’s future now depended on it.  _

“Your Grace!” a youthful voice was shouting and Jon looked to see Brammen Moss, now the squire to Jon Arryn, running high speed towards Jon. The boy had traveled ahead of the host bringing his wife, children, and Robb to let them know how far out they were. 

“The Lady Shireen and Viserion have been spotted. They are a few miles back and will be here by the noon hour with the royal procession soon after,” Brammen said as he stopped and took a deep breath. 

Jon felt his heart swell and he quickly began to make way to the east castle to tell them to prepare for his family. 

Three hours later found him panicked as they all stood in the courtyard. He forced his hands to his side as the wheelhouse rolled into the yard. Ser Loras was beside him and Jon could not help but smile back when the knight grinned excitedly at him. 

“Nervous, Sire?” he asked and Jon went to jape back but the wheelhouse had stopped and the stairs were being placed as the door opened as knight’s flooded into the yard after it. 

Jon barely had time to notice his father and Robb coming in as well, because Margaery was being led down. Suddenly he could care less for propriety. He surged forward and helped his wife down the last step. 

“Welcome to the Twins, My Queen,” he said quietly as she smiled brightly up at him, the rose crown on her brow. 

“I am most pleased to see you husband. May we step aside so everyone else may exit the wheelhouse and I can introduce you to your children,” Margaery said solemnly while her eyes danced with mirth. 

Jon smiled back at her and Loras came up to offer a hand to his grandmother. The Lady Olenna took it and was led down with Lady Catelyn directly behind her. Then there they were in the arms of a nursemaid being handed down to Lady Catelyn and his queen. 

“Might I present, husband, your son Aemon and your daughter Lyanna,” Margaery said as he moved up to them, entranced. 

Lady Catelyn slipped Lyanna into his arms and he stared down at her violet eyes sparkling back. He looked to Aemon and found Stark grey staring seriously. Jon felt the emotion well inside him and hastily pushed down the desire to break down and pull his family into the keep and keep them there as safe and long as possible. 

“Are these the new babes?” the sound of Prince Oberyn Martell came from behind him and Jon resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Oberyn Martell had taken to giving no consideration to royal standards and had apparently decided it was his life’s mission to be an irritating thorn to his chosen nephew’s side whenever possible. 

“Uncle Oberyn, come meet my wife and my children,” Jon said diplomatically as the exuberant Dornish Prince came up and bowed dramatically to Margaery before kissing her hand. 

Then to Jon’s every lasting irritation, Oberyn swept Aemon into his arms before he had a chance to change babes.

“I promise to be wherever your first grandchild is born, Uncle, and make every effort to hold him or her before you,” Jon immediatly stated. 

Oberyn looked up and grinned without remorse, “Be dour and sullen, elsewhere, my King. You are in the presence of a fallen star.”

Jon immediatly glared as Oberyn smiled brightly at Margaery, who blushed at the blatant compliment. 

“I assure you that I have no issue sending my children to the nursery and challenging you to a duel if you continue to stare at my wife like she is a Lyseni pillow girl,” Jon growled and handed Lyanna to Lady Catelyn. 

“Now, give me my son,” he added and Oberyn handed the boy over without comment. 

The gray eyed boy looked up with widened eyes and Jon could not do anything but look back and forth between his children and Margaery for another good few minutes. Finally, he handed Aemon back to the nursemaid. 

He looked to Margaery and found her watching him with soft eyes. He immediatly moved to sweep her up into his arms as she gasped at the sudden shift. 

“You are perfect and amazing and they are beautiful. Thank you, my Queen. I know the custom is to gift a token upon a woman who has bore a man a child, but I fear nothing could compare to the gift you have given me,” he murmured into his hair and Margaery wrapped her arms around him in comfort.

They leaned back from one another and Margaery reached up to cup his cheek, “I will accept only one gift and it is a promise from you,” she quietly requested. 

“Name it,” Jon responded, his voice as if full of gravel. 

“You will waste no time and will make every haste to bring down the false lion and take your rightful home back,” she stated, “So that we may join you.” 

Jon nodded, before pausing and kneeling down in front of her, pulling his sword to point down. 

“I swear before all the gods, old and new, that I will end this war as quickly as possible to bring you all home to me,” Jon swore and Margaery placed a shaking hand on his head. 

“I accept your vow, my love,” Margaery said and then she was pulling Jon upward. 

“Now, show me where we will be staying before going our separate ways,” she murmured as he lead them through the courtyard.

“Nephew, may I enquire as to where my youngest daughter is hiding?” Lady Catelyn asked as they walked slowly over the cobbled stone.

Jon looked over and found Robb standing with his mother and father. 

He took a deep breath and answered while looking right at Robb. 

“Arya is currently in the camps with the Lady Talisa as they see to the general health of the men in the western Arryn camp,” Jon responded and watched as Robb stilled completely. 

“She’s here?” he asked quietly. 

Jon stopped and placed a hand on Robb’s shoulder. 

“Aye, and she remembers,” he answered and watched as the debate danced behind Robb’s eyes. 

He could tell his cousin-brother was about to turn heel and head to the camps, so he spoke before Robb had the chance to attempt to run off. 

“The dragon camp is that direction as well. Lady Talisa has a full guard with her and another contigency awaits riding with Lady Baratheon when she dismounts and sees to Viserion. They will be here before nightfall,” Jon informed him and Robb nodded sharply. 

Jon moved back to Margaery and offered his arm again as they all proceeded into the castle. 

**The Twins **

**Temporary Solar of the Hand of the King **

**Olenna Tyrell **

* * *

“Jaime, Brienne, his children, and a contigent of men have taken Harrenhal,” Jon said as Lady Olenna made herself comfortable behind the desk she would be using only briefly before they moved on to Harrenhal themselves. 

“There were no issues with Lady Whent?” Lady Olenna asked as she looked over the notes spread out over the desk, pushing those she felt useless to the side and sitting those she felt relative in a stack. 

Jon shook his head, “It is as it was the first life, but she ceded to the son instead of Tywin Lannister. Jaime is affording her every courtesy as the Lady of Harrenhal and has assured her she will remain the Lady until she is gone.”

“Do you still plan to place Bran or Rickon there as Lord?” Olenna asked offhandedly as she scoffed over some report or another. 

Jon hummed his affirmative before going on, “There are no true Whent heirs left and Lady Whent is beyond the years to present another direct heir.” 

Olenna nodded, “It is not a bad choice. They are second sons and direct members of your family, but more than that they have Whent blood and could easily be considered next in line through inheritance by blood.”

Jon agreed before changing the subject, “Who do you think should take the twins?” 

Olenna sighed and leaned back, the ever present headache that had joined her the day they had combined their forces to Targaryen and Stark beginning to throb. 

“Perhaps a second or third son of a riverland Lord or even a northern house. We have been at peace for a generation under the usurper and plenty of children have been born. What about that wild cousin of yours and her blacksmith lord. The boy you naturalized Baratheon?” Olenna asked. 

Jon sighed and put his own head in his hands. 

“I would wish no hold on my sister. It would be more devastating to her than if a sword was driven through her heart,” he shrugged and bit back a smile at the put out look Olenna gave him. The Tyrell had turned into the perfect Hand when it came to playing the game of thrones, but she could not understand for the life of her how a member of the family would not do anything to make the whole stronger. 

A curse of their house words, he supposed. Finally he stood from his seat and looked to Olenna as he stretched.

“Imagine forcing Loras to give up his sword and his vow to protect Margaery and our children as a member of the royal guard. That is how Arya would feel if her freedom was taken from her and she was forced to watch over land and hold. She would do it, My Lady Hand, because she is as loyal as the staunchest King’s Guard, but a part of her would die every day she was forced into that cage,” Jon said quietly before turning to leave. 

“My Queen would be most disappointed if you worked yourself into an early grave,” he mused from the door. 

Olenna snorted again, “Take yourself and your henpecking away, My King, and see to your wife and children before we leave on the morrow.”

Jon looked back and Olenna was struck at the sadness in his eyes before he gave a nod and left. 

She sighed with aggravation, the boy was nothing like she had expected, but hells be damned if she was not pleasantly surprised. 

**The Twins **

**Robb Stark **

* * *

Robb stood in the hall and tried not to fidget continiously. He knew that Lady Talisa would be coming down this way for him to escort her into the hall for dinner, but he could keep his heart from practically beating out of his chest. He also knew she’d been sequestered with his mother and sister’s from the moment his past life wife had returned from the camps. 

A sound from the stairs jerked his attention away from his thoughts and his entire breath caught as he watched the woman descending the stairs walk confidently towards him. Stark men at arms were walking behind her, apparently the men Jon had insisted she have for her protection. 

“Lady Talisa,” he began but was soon cut off by lips pressing against his. 

Robb’s eyes were wide as she stepped back and smiled at him. 

“Husband, I hear that you do not remember our past life together and that we must apparently re-wed. I do hope this does not become a habit,” the woman japed at him and Robb found himself laughing at her teasing tone. 

“I will endeavor to not be slaughtered again, wife,” he responded as dryly as he could and watched as Talisa’s hand froze only momentarily over her stomach before she seemed to shake off a sudden melancholy. 

Robb finally spoke as she slipped her hand onto his arm, “I offered you a crown before, wife, and I cannot give that to you this time.”

Talisa froze and turned to look at him directly, her hand leaving his arm only to cup his face. 

“You were brave and strong and true, Robb Stark, when you were King in the North, but I married you for those virtues and not for the title that came with your name. I would love and marry you if you were just a farmer, the same as if you are just Lord Robb Stark, heir to Winterfell and the North,” she said quietly. 

Robb smiled at her words and motioned forward to the doors to the hall, “Shall we?” 

Talisa took a step with him before freezing. He looked down in worry and saw her face as she began to tremble. 

“I...I…,” she stammered and Robb was immediatly shocked at the level of protectiveness that settled in his bones. He looked to the doors again and then back down. 

“They shoved a knife into my stomach,” she whispered and he felt his blood freeze. Jon, Sansa, Theon, and Arya had spoken very little of what they had known from the red wedding, none of them having been present, but it had been enough to make Robb shudder. Watching the woman he would marry go from strong to terrified in one step caused his entire body to go on alert. 

“They drove it in and ripped our child from my stomach. I remember nothing else but the horror in your eyes as everything went dark. I had only told you that evening that we would have a child,” Talisa’s voice was barely a whisper, “And it happened all in that hall.”

The shuffling of armor is the only sign Robb had that the guards were affected. 

Robb made a prompt decision and he turned them both, “My Lady, I fear that I have this incredible urge to eat outside. The weather is temperate and I hear that winter will soon be upon us.”

Talisa looked up, wide eyed, and seemed to thrust off the fear that had gripped. 

“I would like that, My Lord,” she responded quietly. 

Robb looked to the men behind them. 

“I’ll see to it, My Lord. I heard the view is beautiful from the east wall battlement,” one of the men said before moving off to see to their needs and inform whoever needed to be made aware of the Stark heir’s whereabouts. 

“The battlement’s it is,” Robb said and offered his arm again as he made one more promise, “I promise none that did this will be left the chance to repeat their sins.”

Talisa took his arm with a wry look, “I am afraid your cousin gave them trial, lined them up, and chopped their heads off a day after we took the Twins.” 

Robb smiled savagely, “The man who passes the sentence must wield the sword.” 

**Harrenhal**

**Jaime Lannister**

* * *

Jaime of House Lannister stood quietly before the heart tree. He felt a bit odd, doing this in front of the old gods, even though he had felt himself blotted out from the Light of the Seven years before. 

The woman he waited for was already his wife in every way it counted, but Jon and Margaery both agreed it was best for them to marry with witnesses from this time. That way if Brienne became with child, there would never be any doubt of legitimacy. His king was very sensitive when it came to the fathering of bastards, regardless of not being one himself. 

He found himself moving from one foot to the other. 

“Father, you are moving as if there are ants in your trousers,” Myrcella whispered and he froze and looked at her with a raised brow. His daughter blushed grandly, but kept her stare. 

Tommen had been as good as if a dream since they fled the Red Keep, but Myrcella had turned into something occasionally resembling a rabid dog. He did not remember this from the first time around, but then again, his presence in his children’s younger lives was sporadic at best. 

Brienne told him it was perfectly normal for a young maid moving into her elder years to be combative and moody. He just couldn’t help but watch Myrcella constantly. There was too much unknown as to what could happen in the future and Jaime knew that Myrcella was a step away from resentment she would hold her whole life over. 

He had been honest with her at Sansa’s advice. 

_ “She is old enough to know something is wrong with the circumstances of which you found yourself fleeing the Red Keep. She is intensely loyal to Tommen, even more so than she ever was to her mother, but bears no love for Joffrey. She resents you for your absence in her earlier life and resents her mother for the lack of protection against Joffrey. Honesty will be your best tool going forward. It will be the one thing you can offer that her mother will not,” Sansa advised as she sewed yet another design on a handkerchief.  _

_ Jaime was beginning to think the first advisor to the Empress planned to give handkerchief favors to the entirety of the Northern host. The woman always had blasted needle and thread at her lap. It was with sewing that she had drawn young Myrcella into her tutelage. Jaime had come upon them his third day in Winterfell after the strangely comfortable trip North with Eddard Stark. Turns out knowing you were an honorable idiot in the past was enough to help the good Lord learn to be cautious before opening his mouth.  _

_ He’d also asked Jaime about the mad king and when they had arrived in Winterfell, Jaime would hesitantly call them comrades in arms if not friends.  _

_ “So, I must now manipulate my daughter into being loyal to me instead of her mother,” Jaime had bitterly retorted and blanched when Sansa looked up with her cool stare.  _

_ “If telling your daughter the truth and allowing her to make her own judgements armed with all of the facts is what you call manipulation. I know this might come as a surprise to you, Ser Jaime, but females are capable of putting together more than one thought to come to a final conclusion,” Sansa stated and Jaime fought the urge to stand indignantly.  _

_ “I never…” he began, but then he stopped, “Fine...you’re right, Lady Sansa.” _

_ Sansa made a huffing noise, but he could hear the pleased tone under her words when she responded. _

_ “I usually am. Now, after the war ...that's when we will speak in earnest,” she mused.  _

_ Jaime gave her a perplexed look.  _

_ “I believe Trystan will be joining us in Essos as the official Westerosi ambassador. It was apparently part of the agreement Jon and Prince Doran worked out with Daenerys. Doran has all but declared Jon family and Jon is inclined to offer honors to the Martell’s previous monarchs have withheld. He shows great promise in regards to diplomacy with only a modicum of the normal dornish temper. He will need a wife who has the ability to handle the scrutiny of being in the public’s eyes,” Sansa hummed.  _

_ Jaime shot her another irritated look, “Now, you are trying to marry off my daughter and steal her away from us all.” _

_ Sansa snorted, “Only because your two youngest children are the best of all you lions. Tommen will remain in Westeros, unless he would prefer the Essosi air, but I do entreat you to spend time with your son and find what it is he actually would like to do. He is legitimized so you could place him as your heir to Casterly Rock.”  _

_ Jaime shrugged. He could never disagree that the two youngest of his progeny were the best of the Lannister House, but he did not know if Tommen would make the right kind of Lord Paramount.  _

“Who comes before the heart tree,” Tommen’s voice was clear and broke through Jaime’s train of thought. 

His eyes shot up and he felt his heart skip even as a smile overtook her body. 

“Brienne of House Tarth, a woman flowered and ready to be wed,” Lord Selwyn Tarth said for his daughter. 

“Who would wed this woman?” Tommen said after being prodded by Myrcella as Jaime’s heart moved down to in front of him on the arm of her newly arrived father. 

The Lord of Tarth had arrived to everyones shock and Brienne’s pleasure two night’s prior with a host of Tarth men. According to the Evenstar, they were there to swear to the new Lady Baratheon and the new King. The man had heard rumors that his daughter was at Harrenhal with the kingslayer and that they were to wed. 

Now, Brienne stood before him in a full suit of armor, gleaming silver in the sun and he thought she had never looked more beautiful. How had he ever thought that this ceremony in itself would change them? They were fundamentally everything a Lord and Lady were not supposed to be, but he loved every part that they were made up of. 

“Jaime of House Lannister, heir to the Westerlands and Casterly Rock,” he said without hesitation or fear and her smile made everything seem clearer. 

He put his hand out and they walked to kneel before the heart tree in prayer. Jaime was surprised to find himself actually praying and thanking the unknown and unnamed gods of the north. 

He had been surprised to find that the Maiden of Tarth also considered the old god’s hers. 

The wind blew slightly and the red leaves tumbled down around them. He heard Myrcella whisper how beautiful it was, but he had no words as they quietly stood and he removed the cloak from her shoulders. He smiled at the intricately woven design of the Tarth sigil. He had a feeling help had been procured from the Stark and Targaryen households. 

His wife could stitch a clean line on a wound, but ask her to apply flourish to thread and cloth and you were likely to get yelled at for presumption. 

He ran his fingers over the stitching as he handed it back to be held and took the cloak from Myrcella. 

He had been surprised when she had come to him and asked to be the one to take care of preparing the cloak for Brienne to be wrapped in. He breath caught as he saw the lion of Lannister on the middle and woven into his mane the quartered sun and stars sigil of House Tarth. It was truly a work of beauty. 

Myrcella acted hot and cold towards him, but surprisingly she had developed a respect of sorts for her stepmother. 

He swung the cloak around Brienne and he should have been shocked at the extra fabric Myrcella had woven for the cloak to drape all the way over her armor, but he found himself not surprised at his daughter’s consideration. 

As he led Brienne from the disfigured and horrific face of the heart tree and towards the keep, he felt that perhaps everything would actually be alright this time around. 

**King’s Landing **

**The Underbelly of the Red Keep **

**Cersei Lannister**

* * *

Cersei stood before the skull of the giant dragon. A part of her wanted to rage and scream and light wildfire to the entire city, but her father was making it quite clear that her place was to currently flee. 

_ “You are without a doubt the most troublesome of all my children with your current state of mind,” Tywin seethed as Cersei wobbled on her feet staring out over her balcony, goblet in hand.  _

_ She glared back at her father, “You have a traiterous son who fights with this falso dragon and a murderer of dwarf who has vanished with only a note stating he has gone to the wall. You dare call me troublesome?”  _

_ Tywin looked at the empty cannistor of arbor red with disgust, “Jaime disappointed me the first time he took his vows and swore he would give me no heirs. Tyrion has never been anything but a disappointment from his first breath...you, however, had the ability to raise the Lannister’s Lion above all houses for all history. Instead you have birthed a lion more mad than the darkest dragon. You, I fear, have brought ruin to us, but your brother at least might see the Lion roar again one day.”  _

_ _

_ Cersei screamed with rage and threw her now empty goblet at Tywin’s head.  _

“Are you ready, Cersei,” Tywin’s voice growled out from behind her. She spun to glare at her father again. 

He only gave her a condescending look, “You have only yourself to blame. Ordering the guards and maester to prepare wildfire below the keep? You have become weak, Cersei, to break our backs before the battle has even started.”

“We will lose, Father, and I would rather see this city burn than give it back to that whores son,” she spat out and watched as her father rocked back on his heels. 

Tywin Lannister looked at her cooly one more time before nodding to the men to take her and escort her to the ship. 

“Is that why you are so angry, Cersei? Because you feel that this Aegon, son of Lyanna, was supposed to be yours? Rhaegar’s and yours? He turned from you years before Lyanna was even a twinkle in his eye. You have been unwanted since I turned down the Princess of Dorne’s offer to wed you to Oberyn. You were never considered for Rhaegar, regardless of what I wished,” Tywin snarled and Cersei felt her heart shatter even farther. 

Tyrion had taken her mother, her father had ruined her opportunity for Rhaegar, Jaime ran from their love, and now Lyanna Stark’s son came for her son’s life. She felt her hand make a fist and she stepped towards her father. 

“Thank you, father, for clarifying my lot in life,” she said softly, trembling as if remorseful, but slipped her hands in her skirts she leaned to kiss her father’s cheek. 

“I will never forget the lesson,” she added as she began to step back, before thrusting forward. She watched with savage pleasure as her father’s eyes widened as her knife slipped from his ribs as if his body was butter and Tywin Lannister collapsed to the floor. 

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days and hours before the attack on King's Landing. Intended to be a siege, it is no longer feasible to just wait out the mad boy king as they learn of dark plots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple things. Thank you everyone for commenting last time. I am glad you all seem to be enjoying the story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. It does look to be another three-four chapters before this book closes and the last one begins. The War of the Summer kind is currently right around 23,800 written words. That is right around 79 pages of a average print, paperback book. Once Upon a Winter's Tale ended at 43,204 words which is around 144 pages in the same type of book. Last year, all together I posted 96,910 total words in the ASOIAF/GOT fandom. That roughly translates to 323 pages of work written since September of 2019. These numbers do not include the plethora of other work I have written in-progress. 
> 
> It's been fun and I look forward to another year of enjoying non-pressured fan work.

**The Red Keep **

**The Rooms of the Dowager Queen **

**Cersei Lannister**

“Have you lost your mind, Mother?” Joffrey screeched as he walked the expanse of her floors. 

Cersei watched on dispassionately. She knew what was best and she would protect the only son left to her currently. Her father would see them roll over and run to Pentos or Volantis or some other equally savage place. 

“What is it you speak of?” she said, sweetness infused her voice. She fought back the urge to belch and glared at the stand of wine to the side. That needed to go sooner rather than later. She needed a clear head for their next choices. 

“You have killed my hand, Mother, and we are on the precipice of battle without a sound military mind in the keep. Uncle Kevan might suffice for running the day to day issues, but he is no Tywin Lannister. I needed my grandfather and you have doomed us all because you thought yourself, a woman, of higher value than my Hand,” Joffrey continued on and Cersei blinked rapidly trying to catch up to her son’s idiocy. 

She raised herself up, tripping slightly over her skirts, but righting herself before speaking, “I am your mother and I have been the one pulling the strings in King’s Landing longer than you have been walking. It is a given fact that this city will burn, be it by wildfire or dragon fire. Best we prepare to use that to our advantage. We leave the Red Keep and wait as this false dragon’s forces flood the city. When dragons fly overhead and that fool thinks us long away, we ignite the fire that will save your birthright!” 

Cersei watched as her son’s eyes lit up at the idea of people burning. She swayed again slightly and waved her hand at a handmaid. 

“Bring me water and bread,” she demanded as she motioned Joffrey closer. 

“Come, my son, my noble King, and sit. I will tell you how we will burn this world to the ground and only House Lannister will rise from the ashes. When all the great houses are gone, we will put those we want and desire across the North to the South,” Cersei crooned and watched as the madness briefly rescinded from her eldest and he sat down. 

Then she proceeded to slowly fan the flames she had just brought down to embers. This time she would control when the embers would once again burst in fire. 

_ Fire and Blood, indeed,  _ thought Cersei. 

The entire world would hear the dragons burn in fire and their people be covered in blood when the Lion’s roared their loudest. 

**Harrenhal **

**Queen Daenerys and King-Consort Jorah **

Daenerys smiled savagely as Jorah and her fought each other for control in their marriage bed. She moaned loudly as Jorah kissed her with tongue and teeth as he slammed his hips down and ground down. The desperation that had slowly been building in her, steadfast and slow, under her Bear’s guidance suddenly exploded as she felt her body shake apart. Jorah must have had a similar occurrence as his hips stuttered only momentarily before he held himself tense before relaxing and rolling them again so she was nestled on top. 

“I do hope the walls of Harrenhal are thicker than those of White Castle, Dany,” Jorah rubbled to her and Daenerys snorted. 

“Let them hear us, my love, from one side of this land to the other. I have taken my Northern bear as my husband and these silly courtesies of this continent should be at peace,” Daenerys smartly retorted and then raised an eyebrow as Jorah looked down at her. 

“You do know that courtesies do not mean prudish, my dragon,” he teased and Daenerys found herself blushing slightly under his attention. Her bear was by no means perfect, but he was devout and loved her more fiercely than anything she had ever thought possible. 

Pushing herself up and ignoring his hands that clawed back to pull her down, Dany laughed as she grabbed her robe to pull on. Pulling her hair free from the silk and tossing it to straighten her tangles, Dany sat on the edge of the bed.

“Come back to bed, my love, we must leave at dawn to make Dragonstone in the time necessary to go with the fleet,” Jorah requested as he rolled back over and put his arms behind his head. 

“So many years wanted to come home to Westeros, I never realized that the place was not what mattered until discovering what I aimed to lose in the war to end the world,” Dany murmured looking into the distance. 

“Dany?” Jorah asked, concerned as he set up. 

“I don’t want to see this world fall, husband,” her voice sounded smaller than he had ever heard it. 

“My love?” Jorah said drawing her to him. 

Daenerys pulled back from the embrace, “Promise me, Jorah, promise me that no matter what happens if I fall, if the world falls again, you will take our child and flee as far east as you can. Try to outrun the winter, please.”

Jorah watched as his wife broke down into his arms, sobbing. 

“Dany? Are you?” he asked hesitantly. 

She leaned back and nodded once, sharply, “I spent so long knowing I would bare no more children that I did not even think to take precautions. I lost my first son, Rhaego, and I do not ever want to lose another child. A parent should never have to outlive their children, Jorah, as it is a pain to suffer like nothing else.” 

Jorah wasted no more time. He pulled Daenerys tightly onto his lap and hushed her fears and made his promise to his Queen. 

**Harrenhal **

**King Jon**

Jon could not help but grin as he watched the antics of Vargas and Rhaegal. The dynamics between the dragon’s were both a constant state of amusement and worry for their riders. While Vargas, Rhaegal, and Viserion got along quite well, Drogon and Vargas were not particularly fond of one another. 

Daenerys assumed it was because both Jon and her were of strong temperament. Jon had the better ability to stay calm under duress, but they both had flaring tempers that clearly showed their dragon blood. 

Thus the reason that Daenerys and Jorah were currently flying back to Dragonstone to check in with their forces and to help Ser Davos as he commanded the naval fleet. In exactly two hours they would begin the march on King’s Landing and the siege would begin. 

“Your Grace?” Lord Reed came behind him. 

Jon tilted his head to look back. 

“Is something wrong, Lord Reed?” he asked quietly. 

“Lord Varys has received a raven from King’s Landing. He is waiting for you in the solar,” Lord Reed responded and Jon nodded shortly and began to move back towards the keep. Ser Selmy and Loras close behind. 

Jon was still slightly bitter about Loras not being with Margaery. 

_ “He is the captain of your guard,” Jon countered when Margaery had informed him he would be taking Loras.  _

_ “I will be guarded by the earth and sky itself in the Eerie, my love. You will take my captain because he over all others will be invested in seeing your safe return to me,” Margaery calmly responded as she moved Lyanna from one breast to another.  _

_ Jon could see a light on from the side room and knew that their wetnurse must be feeding Aemon. He could also see the setting sun glinting off the medal from Ser Hobber’s armor. Jon was not one hundred percent comfortable with the Redwyne chosen to be part of the Queen’s Guard, but only because he looked at Margaery with starstruck eyes.  _

_ Jon had found himself rather possessive of his wife.  _

_ “Please quit glaring in the direction of Ser Hobber, Jon, and look at me,” Margaery quietly asked and Jon found himself kneeling down in front of Margaery and cupping her cheek.  _

_ “You are the very heart of me and our children are my soul. If anything were to happen...my siblings...Elia,” Jon choked off the rest of his words and ducked his head.  _

_ He felt his wife lean and press a kiss to his head, “I promise, Jon. We will be ever cautious is all that we do,” Margaery murmured.  _

_ “That is all I can ask for, my Marge,” Jon whispered back.  _

Jon snapped his attention back to the present as they entered into the solar. Varys was holding a scroll and staring out of the window. 

“Lord Varys,” Jon hummed and came to sit across from the man who had a very serious look on his face. 

“Your Grace, I have received an interesting missive from one of my little birds in King’s Landing. Tywin Lannister is dead by Cersei Lannister’s hands,” Varys stated with an preliminaries as he had learned their King did not enjoy idle chatter. 

Jon’s eyebrows raised, “I know Cersei Lannister has not been the most reasonable of people, but this seems extreme even for her.”

Varys shrugged as he took his own seat. 

“She has grown steadily more unreliable after Lord Jaime left with the two younger children. The last information before this was that she was drinking herself into a stupor, making a fool of herself in open court, and was being sent away to Essos by her father,” Varys tapped a finger on the desk in a random pattern that Jon had learned meant the man was trying to figure out what all to share. 

“There is something else, something that you are not completely sure of being the truth, but that you know has to be shared,” Lord Reed stated from Jon’s other side. 

Jon watched in amusement as Varys looked up and narrowed his eyes at Lord Reed. Howland Reed and his insightful deductions were often a sense of perplexment for Varys. 

“What is it, Varys,” Jon finally bluntly asked. It would not be beyond him to have the room searched for information if Varys was not completely forthcoming. 

Varys nodded as if deciding, “My little bird said that men are moving wildfire beneath the city and stockpiling it at the Red Keep. She overheard that the plan is for the Queen and Joffrey to leave the city and to await our forces to take the keep and then destroy us that way.”

Jon hummed and leaned back in the chair trying to think his way through this one. 

“Summon my Hand and the war council,” Jon ordered after a moment. 

It took time, but everyone was finally located and informed of the situation at hand. 

“Well, the solution is quite simple is it not?” Lady Olenna stated after a bit, “The idiots are going to either be in a ship not far from King’s Landing or they will be hiding nearby. The fact that the Ironborn, Redwyne, and Essosi fleet will already be in place will make the idea of hiding in a ship quite idiotic, so they will hide in the city. Where would be the best place to watch the keep burn without being in danger, but close enough to assume command after the destruction?” 

Everyone looked at her blankly for a moment, before Jon grinned and ducked his head. 

“The only way to ensure that the order to burn the Red Keep is not given is to drag both Joffrey and Cersei back to it. Once there any power they had will be gone,” Jon stated while chuckling. It was rather simple. They could shove them both in the black cells till they could be brought to trial. 

“The Sept of Baelor,” Ser Davos stated and everyone turned to look at the onion knight. 

He looked to the rudimentary mapping they had of the city in front of them and pointed. 

“It is situated directly in the path of King’s Square and from there it is a straight shot into the Red Keep. There are also tunnels beneath the sept that lead all the way into the underbelly of the keep,” Ser Davos said as he drug his finger down the makeshift roads. 

“Would the faith willingly hide them?” Lord Stark asked leaning down. 

Varys chortled, “Lord Stark, the faith will try to placate whichever side is willing to give them more power. They have not forgotten nor forgiven Aenys for perceived slights, Maegor for his oversight, and even Jaehaerys for bargaining away the last of their military strength; therefore, putting a Targaryen back on the Iron Throne will be the least of their desires. This does not even take into account the fact that this Targaryen openly worships the old gods.”

Jon grimaced at the censure, “Margaery and I both agreed that we would marry in the sept of King’s Landing to placate the faith.”

“I would begin with not using the word placating when asking the septon to marry you both,” Lady Olenna said dryly and huffed when Jon grinned cheekily at her. 

Lord Stark looked at the route that Ser Davos had outlined and gave a sigh. 

Jon looked to his uncle, “Father?” 

Lord Stark looked up and smiled softly at the name. The closer they got to placing Jon on the throne the less he would hear that title. 

“It is the route I took when we returned to King’s Landing after finding you. Now, I return you to the same route, but this time to do as I should have the first time and place you on the Iron Throne,” Ned said softly. 

Lady Olenna hissed in irritation, “And that is the last you will speak aloud of everything from the day you left that tower to this day being anything but a planned measure of playing the game.”

Ned shot the woman an irritated look and Jon sighed as he recognized the stress beginning to take effect on all of his closest advisors. 

“Your Grace?” a man in Baratheon colors was at the door. 

Jon turned and nodded as he realized what the man had come to say. 

“It’s time,” he spoke and looked around at his gathered war council and pieces of his small council, “Let’s finish this.” 

**The Eyrie**

**Queen Margeary**

Margeary sat across from Shireen and waited for the younger girl to take her turn of cyvasse. They had been playing for several hours and it was getting harder to avoid thinking of the time. 

Jon and their armies would be marching on King’s Landing. It would not be much longer before the war broke out in earnest, even as outnumbered as it was. The playing board they were looking at all but guaranteed victory, but Margaery knew better than to assume anything. 

“They will be fine,” Prince Oberyn said from the corner where he was playing with Aemon and Lyanna. Both of her darlings were sitting up on their own and scooting across the floor now and it broke her heart that her husband was missing so much time. 

Smiling at the man who had been her husband’s bargain when agreeing to take Loras with him.

_ “I will take Loras to guard my back, but Prince Oberyn will stay with you and the children,” Jon said with a flat tone that Margaery had learned meant arguing would be useless.  _

_ She sighed and nodded. It was not as if she could not grasp the reasoning behind her husband’s choice. Oberyn Martell had been helpless to save his own sister and her children, and it made him a fierce protector of Margaery and her babes.  _

“Worrying does nothing but cause wrinkles from frowning,” Margaery hummed at his assurance and the Prince burst out laughing as did Shireen. 

“I suppose that is wisdom from the Lady Hand?” Prince Oberyn asked as he scooped Lyanna up as she reached the edge of the blanket where Ghost lay. Lyanna had taken to pulling on the dire wolf's tail and while Ghost was most understanding, Margaery could not quite allow herself to let it happen. 

She held her arms out and accepted her squirming wild girl. She smiled down at Lyanna as her child immediately fisted her mother’s hair and pulled. 

“That one is going to be wild as King Aegon’s young little cousin. The one who married the blacksmith,” Oberyn said grinning. 

Margaery nodded her agreement as Oberyn picked up Aemon. 

“This one, though, this one is going to be wise and patient,” the Prince grinned as he ran a finger down the middle of Aemon’s forehead and tapped the boy’s nose. The crown prince just gurgled happily at the man and reached up to tap back at Oberyn’s nose. 

Shireen moved her cyvasse piece and smirked as she won the game again. She stood up and moved to the window where they could see Viserion flying outside. Margaery startled as Lyanna started to whine and reach for the window. Sighing she stood to walk to the window where the princess could see the dragon as well. She steadied herself as she felt Ghost rub up against the back of her legs. They stood watching the dragon making laps for a good while and Margaery relished the distraction from wondering how her husband’s war was faring. 

**The Gullet **

**The Dragon Fleet **

**Lady Asha Greyjoy **

Lord Velaryon was watching her oddly and with a large amount of suspicion. Asha rolled her eyes and hollered another order out as the wind picked up. They were leading the fleet in, Drogon and Daenerys flying above. 

“If he does just speak his issue instead of constantly looking at me, I am of a mind to cut of his cock,” she hissed to Jorah Mormont, the Dragon’s Queen’s own consort. 

“Peace, Lady Greyjoy. The ironborn have ravaged and reaped the ships of the crown fleet’s for centuries. I would think it odder if Lord Velaryon did not look at you with suspicion,” Jorah said dryly as he kept his eye on his wife. 

Asha snorted, “You watch the skies as if you could do anything if your Queen was toppled from her mount.”

She resisted the urge to flinch when the bear turned and gave her a look that made it obvious he would care not she was a woman if she were a threat to his Queen. 

“They would know only a moment of victory, Lady Greyjoy, because her mount...as you called Drogon...would reap fire and blood the moment his mother was struck from his back,” Jorah said, the northern wind apparent in his voice. 

Asha nodded in understanding. She had figured that out on the journey from Essos. Looking back at the rest of the fleet that the eye could see, Asha reminisced about how much had changed since she’d began the journey for an ally.

Finding not only her brother, whom she thought was ensconced in a frivolous, mainland life in the north, not only in Essos, but a proper lord with a proper wife was jarring enough. Finding a good-sister who was a lady in all sense of the word, but also as savage and vicious as any ironborn maid was a boon. 

Leaving them in the north when the rest had to travel south to take this damned chair had been more challenging than she would have liked. They were her family, small as it was, but she’d promised Theon that she would see his Queen safely returned to him. She planned to keep that promise and if said Queen was of a mind to help her root out her Uncle Euron after all was said in done...well...it would be impolite to say no. 

Asha grinned as she thought about being polite. After all isn't that what all these mainlanders thought was the most important thing? With that thought in mind, Asha turned back and walked to whence she had come. 

“Don’t worry, Lord Velaryon. We, ironborn only reave and raid when not at war with each other. You have at least a good two years before we could concentrate anywhere else, but our own shores.” 

**Winterfell **

**Lord Theon Greyjoy **

Theon walked the training yard, stopping every moment or so to adjust a boy’s stance, before moving on to the next. Lord Rodrick was a stone’s throw away doing the same with another row of northern boys. Somewhere, on the other side of the keep, Arya was doing the same with a smaller group of girls. 

He looked up to the overlook where Lord and Lady Stark had often stopped to watch the training as they grew up and found his wife standing with her mother. They seemed to be in deep discussion and when his wife looked up and met his eyes, Theon could not help the way his heart skipped at the love there. 

His life now was more than he had ever anticipated being gifted with and he would never forget that. 

“Papa!” a voice yelled and he looked back up to see his daughter had been lifted into her grandmother’s arms and was waving largely and reaching towards him. Theon gave in to the desire and excused himself from the lesson. He reached the ladies as they came down the stairs and reached out to take Allanys from Lady Stark. 

He then held his arm out to help both of the Ladies onto the ground. His wife had recently begun to show more than could be hidden and it had been a joy to watch much of her childhood household spend so much time watching over her. Sansa had gritted her teeth and took all the mothering with as much grace as possible, but at night she’d curse over the fact that she had already born one healthy babe without so much as a maester. 

Theon would never admit to it, but he felt more at ease with Maester Luwin being present for their second child’s birth. The thought of the maester made a familiar guilt settle back into his bones. 

“Black banners sighted and riders approaching!” a voice yelled from the front and Theon turned to his wife and Good-mother. 

“Are we expecting anyone?” Theon asked curiously. 

Sansa shook her head, “With black banners? It could only be riders from the wall, but they are not expected.”

Lady Stark looked sad and Theon knew it was because she was thinking of Bran. Bran, Jojen, and Benjen had left over a year prior when Jon had first begun his hunt for the mountain. They had only heard that they had made it safely through the wall and Jon had sent word of a message in a dream from Bran, but it was not the same as a letter to his mother. 

“Lady Stark!” a voice bellowed as a messenger ran to them. He skidded to a halt right in front. 

“It is Lord Brandon and the Reed child with black riders!” the man said breathlessly, having obviously been the scout sent to see who the riders were. 

Theon had never heard such a grateful cry as Lady Stark laughed and sobbed all at the same time. Then she did something Theon had thought never to see. 

Catelyn Stark nee Tully lifted her skirts to her knees and ran as fast and enthusiastic as any green boy to greet her son. 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The War of the Summer King draws to an end, but the war against the eternal night is drawing nearer. The gods, old and new, from Essos to Westeros begin to rise and show their power again. The prayers of a child born beneath the seven, married before the old gods, with sleeping blood of Valyria welcome's another old deity to the fold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this one. I will admit that I had a plotting surprise at the end of this one that was not in my plot outline. I liked it so much that I decided to keep it. There is a lot of the high fantasy aspect in this chapter and it will only grow larger as this story ends and the War for Winter begin's. There is another chapter to this part of the trilogy, but then we should be moving on to the end game. 
> 
> I know there are many comments I have not responded to, but I enjoy every one of them. Thank you for the kudos and the words!

Chapter Seven 

**Outside of King’s Landing **

* * *

The night sky brought peace to the entirety of their army that was not expected. Jon wondered if this is what it felt like the night before the battle that killed his birth father. Did Robert Baratheon’s men sit in their camps and know that their victory was almost complete? 

This felt completely different from the battles of their previous lives. Some parts of the past world were hazy, but the battle of Winterfell would alway’s burn in his mind. 

_ The unsullied infantry and dothraki cavalry were lined in rows. This was normal for the unsullied, but abnormal for the dothraki. _

_ Jon stood beside Daenerys, his newly discovered aunt, as she stared down at the northern men gathered at the front of Winterfell. The Bolton bastard was lined out front with the traitors Karstark and Umber, but even if they managed to hold Winterfell this night..they would discover that Alys Karstark and Ned Umber had contingents of unsullied in their keeps. Neither of the men in front of him would live to release their holds. _

_ Hopefully the youngest of their blood would make better decisions. _

_ He scrolled his eyes across the lines. _

_ “They are not there, Jon, unless dressed in armor. Do you see the scorpion’s on the battlements?” Daenerys asked quietly and Jon gave a sharp nod. _

_ “They are fools, but it will not be much longer if we calculated the time right. I should be with them,” he argued again. _

_ “No. You gave a very clear map and my unsullied have done this before. You are my nephew and the heir to the iron throne, even if I decide to sit it first. You will stay safe,” Daenerys snapped back. _

_ Jon glared at her, but the sounds of screams grabbed his attention to the view again. He watched as Ramsey turned around in shock as men flooded from the front of Winterfell and the scorpion’s began to fall off the battlements. _

_ Ramsay seemed to make a quick choice and he mounted quickly. The Karstark and Umber doing the same. Jon sneered as they turned to try and gallop to the woods. Without thought he reached out to Rhaegal and felt the weak link burst into his mind. _

_ He heard Daenerys lecturing him but he’d heard the rumors from one end of the north to the other of what that monster had been doing with the girl they claimed was Sansa Stark. He felt a large burst of vicious glee when Rhaegal dipped from the clouds and went straight for the men. _

_ Jon did not even have to say the words, in his mind he imaged the flames and they burst from Rhaegal’s mouth and enveloped the riders. _

_ When Rhaegal had at last let his fire burn out and the men and horses were nothing but charred bones upon the snow, Jon reached out to communicate Rhaegal to return to him. _

_ “I am going into the keep,” he stated without any reservation. _

_ Daenerys made a huffing noise before he heard the roar of Drogon and knew his aunt had called her own mount. _

_ “Of course you are, you are a Targaryen,” Daenerys snippily stated as she climbed upon Drogon’s back. _

_ Jon snorted and glanced down at Ghost who had come up beside them. _

_ “Find the wolf if she is in the keep,” he told his first companion and Ghost took off like a bullet. _

_ “And a wolf,” he retored to his aunt as he climbed upon Rhaegal. They took to the air quickly and circled Winterfell once before landing in a large enough square closest to where he felt Ghost. There were dead Bolton men all around them and it took no time for unsullied to surround Jon and Daenerys as they walked to the area that Jon realized was the kennels. _

_ Ghost was whining outside the cages, but the kennel master was pressed underneath his paws. The man smelled of piss. _

_ In fact, the entire area smelled of piss and shit. _

_ He came closer and Jon felt his heart stop. There were two huddled figures against the wall. One in front of the other and Jon’s eyes widened as he realized Theon Greyjoy was standing in front of the other. _

_ “Sansa,” the man whispered, “It’s Jon....he has come to save you. It’s Jon...you will be okay.” _

_ Jon demanded the men open the gates and he yanked his cloak off. _

_ “Step away from her, Greyjoy,” he growled out and the man skittered backwards falling on his rump. _

_ “No, Theon!” Sansa cried out and Jon stared momentarily at the frail figure in front of him. Blood, bruises and dirt were all his sister wore for covering, but he would recognize the hair and the blue of her eyes regardless. _

_ Stepping towards her he wrapped his cloak around her shoulders and she also skittered backwards, wrapping it tight around her. _

_ “Theon...Theon...I see Jon, is he real...is this more cruelty,” his sister begged the traitor. _

_ Jon felt his heart stop as Theon looked up, “No, Lady Sansa. Your brother is truly here and he will protect you. “ _

_ “Us, Theon. Jon was always better than all of us. He would protect us. He has to. I would not see another sunrise without you here to keep me safe,” Sansa whispered, not daring to look back at Jon. _

_ Jon swallowed heavily and he felt Daenerys place a hand on his back. _

_ “Find a Maester. Take them both to a room to be seen,” he whispered hoarsely. _

Jon flashed out his memory and looked back around him and began to walk again. 

Everywhere he walked there were men quietly congregated. The camp women seemed almost subdued as well. He made sure to stop at as many camps as he could and talk to them. He asked about their lives, their wives at home, children, and occupations. So many were not soldiers at heart. They had come at the call of banners and he would not forget that. 

He also spoke to them of raping and reaping when taking the city and how he would personally hold all men, regardless of status, accountability if he knew of it or saw it. 

The men more took offense at being likened to ironborn, but the women, from scullery to pillow girls gave him soft smiles. He didn’t know how to handle the appreciation and quickly made way after speaking. 

“Jon,” his uncle called out to him and he turned to walk towards the man as he entered the Stark camps. 

“The men say that Drogon was spotted just before dusk over the bay and circling the city,” Ned said as they walked together deeper into the camp, Robb coming beside them after a moment. 

Jon nodded. Daenerys knew well enough how close to fly with Drogon without coming close enough for a scorpion bolt. He did not think that there had been enough time for Cersei to employ someone who would know of the how and build of the dragon killer’s, but he did not want to take any chances. 

She would fly close enough to set the Lannister fools ablaze with worry and fear. Jon did not argue that fact. Fear could be a great aggressor when necessary and used with the same provision with which Sansa stitched lace. 

“Varys has returned from meeting with his little bird’s,” Ned continued as they moved through the tents. 

“How is your Lady Wife, Robb?” Jon asked with only a little mischief in his voice. Ned and Robb both turned bright red. The misjudging of how loud one could be when spending intimate time together in a tent could have quite entertainment value. This was especially true when one was so caught up in the charms of said wife that they forgot their tent laid directly inbetween his own father and his King. 

“She is currently in the area cordoned off for wounded if the battle goes badly. I sent ten Stark guards with her to look menacing as she yelled at the people who thought they were in charge,” Robb overcame his blush and japed. 

Jon laughed. His good-cousin or good-sister, depending on who was asked, was all fire in her handling of obstinate men who thought they knew best. She was fast on the way of earning the respect of their Northern men and the Lord’s just from her manner of combining mothering and ordering the men about. 

Jon could have sworn he heard Jon Umber talking about how she reminded him of his mother. Then the man had come before Jon himself and sworn to provide pine for buildings and oak for beds in the future Lady Stark’s endeavor to build and staff hospitals throughout the north. 

It had been the first Jon had heard of Talisa’s plan, but apparently she had been speaking to each northern house as she made way through the camp during the travels. He had called Robb and watched in amusement as Robb first seemed to think Jon was irritated with his good-cousin’s plan. 

He had been even more amused when Robb’s mouth dropped after Jon informed him that he would only like to broaden Talisa’s field of influence. He would see the majority of Westoros with the ability to seek medical help. Between Talisa’s goals of hospitals for the smallfolk and Margaery’s aim with Daenerys and Sansa for education, Westeros and Essos would be entering a new era. 

Jon felt his blood stir in anticipation and heard Vargas roar off in the distance as he felt his rider’s conviction. His ancestor’s might have brought conquest to the shores, but they would remake Westeros by knowledge and hope instead of blood and fire. 

Distantly he heard Rhaegal and Drogon join the chorus Vargas began to Jon’s fire. In his head he could feel Viserion join the fray and beyond that he heard the steady two heartbeats of his children. 

**Winterfell**

* * *

Bran stood before the heart tree and took in the view of his family. Jojen was kneeling beside him, obviously searching the world for news. The power blessed to them from the Old God’s hummed and Bran knew that Jojen was using the link forged by the children of the forest to draw from him the power of greensight. 

“You have become the three-eyed raven?” Sansa spoke softly and Bran could not help but gawk at his elder sister. She was twice as large as when he had left, but he had only seen the birth of his first niece. Her new child had been hidden from his sight and he was unsure why. 

“Of a sort. With a second chance, the children and the Bloodraven were able to link Jojen and I. We have both become the three-eyed raven. We are both ourselves and each other,” he said quietly. 

They looked upon both of them in confusion. 

“The time is growing closer, sister, and while Jon has gone south to regain his throne and bind the kingdom, we must begin our own preparations. The night king has risen to power and his white walker’s have grown stronger with him. The wall will stand for only twelve more moon’s before the old magic weakens and the army of the dead can pass. We should be prepared to make war beyond the other side of the wall. He did not mark me and will not be able to find me among Winterfell,” Bran said as Jojen relaxed beside him and stood. 

“The battle for King’s Landing has begun. Jon will sit the iron throne before the day’s last light falls,” Jojen stated quietly and Catelyn inhaled sharply. 

“You saw it?” she asked, “You saw the end?” 

Jojen shook his head and traded a look with Bran. 

“I do not have to see the future to see the Old’s God’s favor and the Seven’s blessings. We are seeing the two work together for the first time since the Andal’s carved the star into their flesh during the first conquering, As the North and the South became one with the song of fire and ice so did the old and the new,” Jojen said quietly. 

“What needs to be done?” Theon was the one who finally spoke and both boy’s eyes turned to him. 

“We must prepare for war,” Bran said simply. 

“Dragonglass must be brought to the North. Valeryian steel must once again be forged,” Jojen added. 

“Impossible...the skill left with Valyria…” Catelyn began but Bran cut her off. 

“Not gone, Mother, only lost and that which is lost may be found again. Look at father, he found a dead dynasty by finding Jon,” Bran shrugged as he spoke. 

Sansa snorted and covered her mouth in mortification. 

Catelyn cut her eyes at her before shaking out her dress. 

“Perhaps, we could have midday meal before planning the resurrection of lost arts and war preparations,” she ordered and watched proudly as all of her children, Theon included, rushed to agree. 

They all began the trek back to Winterfell, but she turned to stare at the tree again. She thought of the prayer wheel’s back in her room. One for all the children. Robb, Sansa, Bran, Arya, Rickon, Jon, and Theon. All the children that had grown up under the shelter of Winterfell and belonged to her. She thought of who she was as the Lady of Winterfell, wife to Lord Stark, and then she let herself think beyond that. 

She was the wife of the warden of the north; therefore she should be the mother of all the north. The children were all hers to protect and shelter and she had been remiss of those responsibilities. Tonight she would sew another prayer wheel. This one for all her children. 

She looked upon the face of the heart tree and she felt herself humbled. Taking her skirts in her hands, she lowered herself in curtsy before the God’s. 

“I promise it. I broke a promise once to a child who the god’s had placed under my roof, but I swear it before the God’s, old and new, that I will never forget my duty and honor again. I will never forget that the entirety of the North is my family and I ask you to watch over every northern man, woman, and child and give me the strength and skill to persevere,” she prayed quietly and went to stand. 

She was mostly upright when she felt the fire. She screamed as she clutched her throat and to her belly and fell to her knees, prostrate before the heart tree. She heard Sansa yelling in the distance and could just barely hear the sound of footsteps hastening towards her. She heard the voices in her head as she looked up to see a lady standing before her. 

“Daughter of Minisa, from the line’s of Whent, Lothston, to Targaryen, be reborn from my blood with your oath as mother of all you seek to protect,” the woman said and Catelyn heard her ears ring. 

“Who…” she croaked and felt a ring of fire rise around them as the footsteps were halted outside of the boundary. 

“I am Meraxes, of the Old God’s of Valyria, and through my blood _ all _houses of Valyria rose and then fell. Long have my brother’s and I slept while my blood grew weaker and weaker, but you...a child born under the sign of the seven, called for all to help and so I came,” the woman’s...god’s voice seemed to boom all through Catelyn, causing her to shake. 

“But you have become of the north and it is for the north you have pleaded. In your blood lies ancient ties to my own and I have brought it forth, but because of your plea I come with a message and blessing from the God’s of the tree’s, the forest, the lakes, the rivers, the earth itself. I bring the message that you are my daughter, but you are their chosen mother. I bring the blessing of northern winter’s blade for the first Lady of Winter to rise,” Meraxes finished and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. 

Catelyn felt her world spin, grow cold with the fire dimming, and when she opened her eyes she see’s her children standing before her. She heard a chirping and her eyes darted to her lap and she felt something akin to kinship sink into her bones and blood at the small ice dragon’s laid upon her lap. 

“Traust and Varda,” she said quietly as she looked to Bran and Jojen. 

“Shelter and protect,” Bran responded. 

Catelyn stood, her dragon’s climbing up her to settle on each shoulder, talons digging in, but tails wrapping behind her. Catelyn could feel her blood both burn and freeze and she wondered at what her face looked like. 

Sansa and Theon were looking at her in amazement and those around them seemed to be hesitating on their feet. 

She looked to Rodrik Cassel who was standing to the side with his hand on his sword. She had prepared for winter for moon’s, but had left the protection to Theon and Ser Rodrick to handle. She could no longer afford to be half a Lady Stark. She would have to hold the North for her husband in full till he returned. It was her right and responsibility. 

“Ser Rodrick, please see to Maester Luwin sending raven’s to all the northern holding’s and to the people holding them while the men are south. Call a northern council...we prepare for war,” she said and felt her back straighten with confidence when the man stared only a moment and then went to his knee. 

“The North is yours to command, Lady Stark, it will be done.” the man gruffly stated and stood before turning and going to see to his duty. 

Sansa came beside her and stared in wonder at the dragon’s. She felt Lady brush against her and she wrapped her finger’s in her wolf’s fur and she reached out to run a finger against the one her mother had called Traust. The dragon crooned and rubbed against her finger. 

She laughed at the feeling and looked back to her mother. 

“Come, daughter, we have much to prepare,” Catelyn said and Sansa nodded and stepped back, “We need to see the safe relocation of these wildling’s your cousin spoke of. I will need your knowledge of how best to bring them past the wall before the night king arrive’s.” 

Sansa looked startled, but nodded, “I had thought Jon would…” she began, but her mother cut her off. 

“I will be going to treat with this Mance Ryder, the King spoke about. They are of the north and they will be protected as all our children are to be sheltered,” Catelyn said. 

Sansa hummed before responding, "Then you should start by referring to them as the free folk."

Catelyn nodded her head while Sansa began thinking of the way the God’s now touched another piece of her family. She said a quick prayer that she was happy to help, but she’d prefer to be left to her own devices, with their pardon. 

They made their way back to the keep with more fanfare and stares than they had upon their departure in the earlier hours. 

**The Wall **

* * *

The wind’s were blowing colder than Aemon ever remembered, but there was something else in the air that he could not recognize. Castle Black had been turned upside down with the appearance of Jojen Reed and Brandon Stark only a few weeks back. The large direwolf that he was not able to see, but able to touch brought a feeling of shock and wonder to his bones. 

He leaned back into his bed and tried to warm from the heavy blankets laid over him. 

The word’s of Brandon Stark in his study had done more than that however. His mind drifted back to the conversation that had given him more hope than he had felt in turns. 

_ “I wondered at you wishing to speak to me, Lord Brandon. I would think after your moon’s beyond the wall you would want to make way for home instead of visiting with an old man,” he had said with teasing to his voice. _

_ “Prince Aemon, I have something to tell you of your blood,” Brandon Stark had quietly remarked. _

_ Aemon had chortled with amusement, “I am no longer a prince, though I am surprised you knew of my lineage. My blood is dying and I don’t know if one princess in Essos will be able to make it burn anew.” _

_ He felt the boy move closer and hands clasp his. _

_ “Not much has been able to reach the wall of the wars the kingdom’s are waging, then. I cannot say I am shocked. Jon had wanted as little as possible to reach the wall until the lion’s were removed from the throne. I suppose he wanted to come himself, Daenerys and he, but it must be the god’s favor that kept word from reaching,” Brandon mused. _

_ Aemon opened his mouth to ask who Jon was, but Brandon continued. _

_ “Jon is Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his name. The son of Rhaegar Targaryen and his second wife, Lyanna. The rightful king. He is only moon’s away from taking back your family’s seat of power and he is the prince who was promised, the spark of the god’s, old and new.” _

_ Aemon took in a deep breath. This couldn’t be the truth. _

_ “How?” he choked out. _

_ “Daenerys and Jon birthed dragons from stone back into the world and the night king has risen. The throne will be secured and then the entirety of Westeros and Daenerys’s Essosi empire will march upon the wall to end the eternal night once and for all,” Bran continued and Aemon felt the power in his words. _

_ He closed his eyes and took another breath, “I feel I do not have much longer for this world,” he quietly whispered. How he would have loved to speak to a member of his own kin again, from before his watchly vows. _

_ “I bear a message from King Jon and from the Gods. Jon promises that he and Daenerys will bring honor back to the Targaryen lines and the gods promise you will see your family one more time. Several moons ago a crown prince was born to Margaery, wife to Jon. He is Crown Prince Aemon, heir to the iron throne, and Jon said to tell you his son was named after the best of all the Targaryen’s.” _

_ Aemon smiled shakily, tears flooding in his eyes, and he nodded his understanding. _

Aemon snapped out of his thoughts and felt the wind blow again over his skin from the window. He thought to call out to his steward to close the shutters, but he felt himself falling to sleep. 

His eyes closed and when they opened he found himself somewhere he thought to never be again. 

“Hello, Aemon,” a tall woman stood beside him and he tilted his head to her. He felt as though he should know who she was, but her name escaped him. 

She laughed lightly and nodded to the throne. He looked closer and saw that a northern man was standing before it with a slight blond. The blond looked back and Aemon realized she could not see him. 

“Are you ready, Jon?” the woman asked, her hand resting on her stomach in a way Aemon knew indicated she was carrying a child. 

“I wish many days that I did not have to do this, Dany. That I could walk away from the throne and place you upon it,” the man whispered back. 

Aemon watched as Daenerys Targaryen, she could not be anyone else, laughed gently and laid a hand upon her nephew’s forearm. 

“The throne has alway’s been meant for you. You have been ordained and crowned by the gods, nephew. It is time for you to take your place and act beyond all of our ancestor’s,” Daenerys gently whispered. 

Jon looked at her and nodded sharply before slowly beginning to ascend the steps. Aemon felt his breath catch and his blood turned to face the crowd of courtier’s who stood in the room and slowly and finally sat the throne. 

As if something more glorious than taking a seat occurred, Aemon startled as the roaring sound’s of dragon’s filled the air and the room burst into rautious and merry declarations. 

“Long live King Aegon!” 

Aemon watched as Daenerys stepped away and moved back to a stout look man who had the symbol of his own Lord Commander’s banner etched into the metal. He watched as she leaned close and he placed a protective hand upon her belly. 

“Little dragon’s are going to flourish from Essos to Westeros, Aemon, Prince of House Targaryen,” the woman next to him whispered and he turned to look at her in astonishment. His eyes wide, he realized belatedly, what was so shocking. He could see with an awareness and sharpness that did not occur usually when he dreamt. 

His blindness had melted away and he saw as clearly as he had as a boy. 

Still, he could not lay claim to what she called him, “I gave away that title when I swore to be a man of the watch.”

The woman gave him a tilted smile, “Have you not realized, yet, my son? Your watch is over and I have come to take you home. You may call me Meraxes, mother of all Valyrian and now of the North. For your faith and your guidance of helping Jon Snow shed the boy to become the man, my brothers and I welcome you as the eternal protector of the old and new. Welcome home.”

Aemon watched as she took his hand and began to lead him away. He looked at his reflection among the glass of the throne room and saw his youth staring back at him as he would led out the doors and into the divine. 

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third part has begun. Link below.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26399638/chapters/64309858


End file.
